


I'll Be Your Shield

by 17 pansies (17pansies)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bodyguard AU, Bucky holds a kitten, Fluff, M/M, Sam's mom is awesome, Steve the bodyguard, SteveBucky Big Bang 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 20:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2634611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17pansies/pseuds/17%20pansies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?"  Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table.  "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."</p><p>"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said.  "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."</p><p>"You mean he needs a babysitter."  Steve sat back and folded his arms.  "Seriously."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Shield

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Steve/Bucky Big Bang 2014. I love these guys so much, and when presented with the opportunity to put Steve in a Men-in-Black suit and give Bucky a ginger kitten, how could I resist?
> 
> Betaed by the beautiful Sirona, but I have messed around and added another 3k since then, so shout at me not her if you find anything wrong :)
> 
> My artist's art is [http://positivesarcasm.tumblr.com/post/102876463480/for-the-steve-bucky-big-bang-2014-i-got-lazy](here)  
> (ETA - fixed link!) :)

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

"It's a one week assignment whilst he's in the country. If they like you and the two of you don't actually kill each other in those seven days, there might be the slim chance of a full time retainer - which," Fury held up his hand before Steve could get another word out. "Would be more than lucrative for both you and the company."

Steve stared at the face which looked out of half a dozen photographs on the table. Ridiculous eyelashes framed eyes that seemed to flit between silver-grey and palest blue depending upon the light. Full lips pouted at the camera, or, in one shot in particular, wrapped around a cigarette in the most obscene way possible.

"What kind of situations?" Steve asked, and ignored Fury's triumphant smirk. Yeah, yeah, so he'd bitten. Call him a sucker for lost causes that needed rescuing. Although listening to Fury's recounting of some of the things Barnes had been caught doing, it sounded like he needed saving from himself more than anything. 

~

Ten o'clock the next morning found him at the airport, awaiting the arrival of the private jet that bore Viscount Barnes to American soil. Steve had deliberately dressed in his soberest, darkest suit, and stood with his hands held loosely behind his back at parade rest. 

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but the lone young man who wandered out through the private customs channel wasn't it. The eyes which had looked out of most of the photographs with sardonic amusement were now hooded, and the wry smirk was also missing. The lush pout was more a pensive moue.

"Lord Barnes?" Steve stepped forward. "Welcome to America."

Barnes looked up and did an honest-to-god double take.

"Gee, they really don't want me getting into trouble this time around." His voice was quiet, accent neutral with the faintest touch of American. It dripped with sarcasm.

"Sir?" 

"My parents warned me that they'd be assigning a babysitter for this trip. I never figured it would be someone who could physically pick me up and carry me out of whichever dive I fell into." The half-smile he offered Steve didn't reach his eyes. "And don't call me Lord Barnes, for god's sake. James or Barnes or sir is fine, but not Lord. That's my father."

"Yes, sir. I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

"Are you now?" Barnes regarded him with his head on one side. "Well, Steve, forgive me if I don't call you Mr Rogers - I spent enough time over here during my childhood that there is only one Mr Rogers for me."

Steve nodded and smiled. Barnes did another double take, then sighed.

"So, where to?"

"Would you like to go to the hotel and freshen up?" Steve asked. "Can I get your luggage for you?"

"No, it'll be taken by the flight crew to whichever ostentatious suite my parents booked for me. What I'd really like to do is go get something to eat. Inconspicuously." Barnes stared at Steve's suit.

Steve looked down at his tie, worried he had spilled something on it. White shirt, black tie, suit jacket, all clean. Except....

"You don't want to look like you have a bodyguard."

"See, now you're catching on. No, I damn well don't. No suits, no ties," he said. "Jeans and t-shirts are just fine." He waved a hand at his own ensemble, which Steve had been trying not to look at too closely. The snug, worn denim hugged Barnes' hips and legs with an intimate familiarity, and the soft, grey Henley didn't leave much to imagination either. Steve nodded.

"In that case, we should head to the hotel first so I can change."

"You're staying at the hotel too?"

"Yes, sir. There is a room adjacent to your suite."

"They really booked 24 hour surveillance, eh?" Barnes sighed. "Lay on, McDuff."

Barnes was quiet on the drive to the hotel, staring pensively out of the window almost the whole way. He looked nothing like the spoilt, self-indulgent playboy Steve had been prepared for. There was a world of sadness in those eyes that, close up, were an arresting silvery blue. He didn’t say a single word to Steve either.

Once up in the plush suite that had been reserved for him, Barnes flung himself into an armchair and waved a hand at Steve.

"Go, make yourself inconspicuous, if that is at all possible." He sighed and then ran his hand distractedly through his hair. "My folks have pulled a good one here," he muttered to himself.

Steve spent a few minutes in his room wondering what the hell he'd taken on. This guy was a couple of years younger than he was, and yet the weight of the world seemed to hang over his shoulders. 

Very nicely shaped shoulders, Steve admitted to himself. He stared in the mirror and sighed. Time for a completely different persona, he realised. Stern, serious, take-no-shit Rogers wasn't going to work with this principal. He would need to tread a little softer, be a touch more approachable.

"Just be yourself then," he told his reflection, tugging the plain white t down over his slim fitting jeans. It was a little too form fitting for his liking but it was all he had with him. 

"You call that inconspicuous?" Barnes stared as Steve came back into the main room of the suite. "Jesus fuck, where did they find you? Hanging around outside Abercrombie & Fitch?"

For one ridiculous minute, Steve wanted to explain that he wasn't a model, that all of this strength allowed him to do his job properly, that he was blessed with a crazy metabolism that piled on muscle mass at the slightest provocation and he really would rather that Barnes didn't look at him with that hungry, disbelieving stare.

"I'm a little more highly trained than those doormen," he said instead. "Where would you like to go eat, sir?"

"I want a decent burger, from some mom & pop place, not a chain or a stupidly overpriced fancy restaurant. Reckon you can find me one of those?"

"Yes, sir." Steve moved to the door and held it open and, after a long moment, Barnes stood.

"Bloody babysitter." He shook his head and muttered something else under his breath that Steve didn't catch. It probably wasn't complimentary, so he didn't worry about it too much.

~

Christ, Bucky thought, flopping down into the booth. Of all the babysitters his damned folks could have hired, they had to go and get him one that looked like the ultimate wet dream. He watched Rogers - _Steve_ , he corrected himself - charm the waitress and then all that golden haired, chiselled muscle was sliding gracefully onto the bench opposite him.

"Come here often?" Bucky asked him, mouth on its default smart-ass setting. Steve just raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I do actually. Mr & Mrs Wilson are old friends and I was in the Army with their son." He looked around with a smile. "I've eaten more burgers here than anywhere else."

"Bring all your principals here too?"

Steve's head snapped around and Bucky watched the way his eyes first widened, then narrowed, and he realised the answer before Steve spoke.

"Actually, no. I've never brought anyone here." A furrow of consternation formed between Steve's eyebrows.

"Don't worry. I _do_ actually know how to behave in public. I won't embarrass you."

"I wasn't worried about that." Steve picked up the menu. "This is just the first time I've let the two sides of my life mix."

Bucky felt something in his gut twist at the admission, but then Steve was staring resolutely at the menu and chewing on his bottom lip, as if to keep any more words from accidentally falling out of his mouth. 

The burgers, when they came, were amazing. Bucky had eaten a lot of excellent food in his life, between the best restaurants, banquets, his parents' own well-staffed kitchens, and the ridiculously rich circles within which he moved, but there was something about the food here that was honest.

Which sounded faintly stupid, when he thought about it, but the meat was juicy, the bread was super soft but not doughy, there was so much cold, crisp salad to offset the crunchy, salty fries, and everything was hot and fresh, and Bucky was tempted to throw his expensively educated manners out of the window and just _eat_.

Steve all but inhaled his burger and fries. He seemed at ease here, Bucky thought with more than a hint of jealousy. Those brilliant blue eyes were still flicking around the room, watching, assessing, ever-alert, but his body language was relaxed.

"Well I never," a rich, amused voice said, and Bucky looked up to see a handsome woman in her fifties standing by the table. "You actually brought a date here, Steve? How come I never got an introduction?"

"Aggie." Steve stood up, grinning, and enveloped her in a big hug. "Not a date, I'm afraid. He's my current principal and he wanted the best burger this side of the Mississippi."

"Oh really?" She kissed him on the cheek and turned her fetching smile on Bucky. "Well, you don't look like none of those stuck up stars that Steve normally escorts around. I'm Aggie Wilson." She held out her hand.

"James Barnes, ma'am," Bucky said, standing up and taking her hand in one fluid motion. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Such nice manners too," she laughed.

"Is this your restaurant?" Bucky asked, slipping into his urbane socialite persona and smiling when Aggie nodded. “I have to say, that was one of the best burgers I've had in a long time."

"Why, thank you." She beamed at him. "Nothing better than simple food, well cooked. Can I interest you in dessert?"

"All depends if you do something along the lines of warm brownies and vanilla ice cream."

"You just sit yourselves down," she told them, patting Bucky on the shoulder. "I'm sure I can find something like that in the kitchen." She winked at Steve and headed towards the back of the restaurant. 

Bucky watched her go, wishing like hell for a moment that he had someone like that in his life. He'd exchanged half a dozen sentences with her and was almost overwhelmed with the urge to follow her and ask for a hug.

He was such a fucking idiot. 

"Known her long?" Bucky sat back down and picked up his glass of coke.

"Only since I was about ten." Steve huffed a laugh and took a sip of his own drink. "She's always been an awesome cook. I've been chased out of her kitchen so many times, I've lost count. Sam and I were always trying to find where she'd hidden the cookie jar."

"Cookies?"

"Best Toll House cookies you've ever tasted." Steve licked his lips.

Bucky's eyes were glued to Steve's mouth as he spoke and all kinds of distinctly unwholesome things were running through his head. 

How was this guy real, he wondered, looking out of the window to his left. He stared unseeing at the car park and tried to ignore the empty, hollow feeling inside. It was such a permanent part of him that he should be used to it by now. But, when faced with people like Steve Rogers, he found that it came screaming to the fore, reminding him of all the things he didn't have, couldn't have, and should never, ever want.

This all-American diner with its good food and homey atmosphere epitomised pretty much everything that Bucky had never had in his life. It offered warmth, comfort, and a sense of belonging that he was almost desperate to reach out and grab.

But he knew he wouldn't, because if he did it would slip through his grasp with the same infuriating ease as everything else did, and he would probably end up tainting it in the process.

"Everything alright, sir?" Steve asked, leaning forward.

"Perfectly," Bucky said, dragging his attention back from a thousand yards beyond the glass and pasting on an approximation of a smile. "Except, don't call me 'sir' here. In private, my name is Bucky."

"Bucky?" Give him his due, Bucky thought - Steve didn't smile.

"Yeah. Middle name is Buchanan, and my great-Uncle Bucky was the black sheep of the family. I kind of appropriated the name. It fits." He shrugged and cursed his careless tongue.

"Then Bucky it is, at least when there's no one else around." Steve looked up with a smile as Aggie approached the table, a plate in each hand. 

"Now, you two, I hope you left room for this. Although you," she addressed Steve with a wink. "I know you can eat dessert no matter what you may have put away before." She put a plate piled high with dark, fudgy-looking brownies, topped with a mound of vanilla ice cream and a swirl of whipped cream in front of Bucky. Thick chocolate sauce ran down the side of the creamy mountain and in spite of the size of the burger he'd just eaten, Bucky's mouth watered. "And your favourite, as always," Aggie said, and put a dish of apple pie and ice cream in front of Steve.

"Best apple pie, ever," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Aggie."

"Thank you, Mrs Wilson," Bucky echoed. "This looks amazing."

"You're right welcome, James, and it's Aggie. Any friend of Steve's is always more than welcome here." She placed her warm hand over the back of his for a moment, then vanished.

"Wow, she really took to you fast," Steve said.

"Is that - unusual?" There was a lump in Bucky's throat. He didn't know where to look. 

"Aggie is a good judge of character." Steve picked up his spoon and dug into the plateful of pie. "She's normally kinda reserved with folks she's only just met."

"Ever known her be wrong about someone?" Bucky couldn't help but ask.

"Nope." 

First time for everything, he thought.

Bucky looked up to find Steve staring at him, his expression unfathomable. Then, suddenly, he smiled, blue eyes lighting up as he looked at Bucky. 

I am so fucked, Bucky thought. Steve's smile changed his whole face. It banished the serious, guarded expression and replaced it with something lighter and brighter and so god damn fucking beautiful that Bucky could barely breathe. Those summer-sky blue eyes crinkled around the edges, and there was an honest-to-god dimple in his chin.

"You know," Steve continued, as if he hadn't just turned Bucky's entire world upside down with just a smile. "Maybe this week isn't going to be that bad after all."

"Why? Were you warned about me?" He dragged his eyes away from Steve's perfect cheekbones and dug his spoon into the mound of slowly melting ice cream. He came up with a spoon piled with brownies, dripping with cream and chocolate sauce, and shovelled it into his mouth. "Oh my god," he said, the words muffled by brownie. A moment's chewing and he looked between Steve and the dessert as if they had both betrayed him. "Oh my god."

"Good?"

"These are the best damn things I've tasted in forever. I'm never going to be able to eat brownies anywhere but here again," he added mournfully, and Steve actually laughed at him.

"You've probably eaten in some pretty fancy places," Steve prompted.

"Oh yeah, but fancy food sucks after a while, when you've eaten it all your life." Food was a safe topic, Bucky decided. Food was boring and essential and not sexy at all... right up until Steve flipped his spoon over and licked a drip of ice cream off the back it. Fuck. 

"Can't imagine what that must be like," Steve said, thoughtfully cutting his crust into three even pieces. "As a kid, there were days when I didn't have enough to eat at all. If I'd not met Sam when I was ten, chances are I'd have ended up a ninety pound asthmatic."

"Really?" He found he was eating the brownies on autopilot, each rich, warm mouthful accented by the lush cold ice cream and dark chocolate sauce. "Your parents not feed you?"

"There was just my mom, then she died when I was fifteen and I went to live with my grandma." Steve waved his spoon around. "Aggie would feed me at every opportunity she got, and then maybe let me help with the washing up once a week in payment."

Bucky blinked. The concept behind that was something he struggled to grasp.

"I have both parents, three grandparents and a couple of uncles and aunts," he found himself telling Steve. "Cousins everywhere, all jockeying for position in a royal family that has very little in the way of country to rule. They all ran away from the motherland over the centuries, the last exodus being about fifty-odd years ago." It was his turn to lick sauce off his spoon. "I've had the best education in the world - Eton, Harvard, ENS, a spell in St Petersburg. And yet I'm not allowed to do anything with it. Working is far too lower class." He bit his tongue in an effort to stem the sudden flow of words, but failed. "I've never been hungry or cold for more than an hour."

"You're very lucky," Steve said. There was something in his expression, though, which made Bucky think that Steve didn't mean it quite that way. He shrugged and scraped the last of the chocolate sauce from the bottom of the dish. 

"Fortunate and privileged," he said, not meeting Steve's eyes. "But not lucky."

The silence stretched between them. It was oddly comfortable, though. Steve wasn't judging him, Bucky decided, but instead was just there, a solid presence which for one fanciful moment he could imagine being supportive, encouraging, _approving_.

No one ever approved of Bucky, which was why he was in this god-forsaken country to begin with.

Before he could spiral down that particular rabbit hole of thinking, Aggie was back at their table.

"Well, goodness," she said. She looked at their empty plates and nodded to herself. “I don't think I need to go tweaking the recipes for those any time soon."

"Please, don't ever change your apple pie," Steve said. "The world would probably end if you did."

"I've left you the recipe in my will." Aggie winked at him. "But you ain't getting it a moment sooner."

"That would still be too soon."

"You, Steven Rogers, could charm the birds from the very trees themselves." She gathered up the plates. "Now, more coffee, or have I managed to actually feed you enough this time?"

"I'm full, Aggie, thanks." Steve slid out from his seat and pulled her into a hug. "Just the check, please, and then we'll be out of your hair."

"Ah, you could stay in that booth all day if you really wanted to, you know that. Nothing like watching the world go by with a cup of coffee to hand." She smiled warmly at Bucky. "Have you had enough too, young man?"

"Yes, thank you, ma'am." Once standing, he realised just how tiny she was, barely five feet tall. "I'll be back for more brownies though, for definite."

"You're more than welcome back, any time." She held out her hand, but as soon as Bucky took it she used their grasp to pull him down into a hug. "You look like you could do with a little home cooking, James. And you," she turned to Steve and jabbed him in the ribs. "You bring this boy back, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Steve kissed her on the cheek and Bucky took a moment to compose himself. People didn't hug him, not like that, not properly like they actually wanted to hug him and weren't just doing it for appearances sake. "Actually, would you put this on my tab? I'll pick it up at the weekend," Steve said. "Right, s...Bucky. I think we need to walk a few of those fries off."

Bucky followed him out of the restaurant and into the blazing afternoon sunshine. The day still looked the same. The sky was still Pacific blue, the stupid Californian palm trees were still waving in the gentle breeze, the roads were still long and grey and flat... but he felt different.

Idiot, he chided himself. 

"So what next?" he asked, stretching. "More good, wholesome, all-American pastimes? Go throw a ball around? Play frisbee? Invade a small country?"

He knew he was being an asshole and couldn't help it. The flash of hurt disappointment which was there and gone on Steve's face was punishment enough, though.

"It's up to you," Steve said, his voice quiet. "Whatever plans you had for this week, I'm here to just accompany you. So let me have your itinerary and we'll make a start."

"No doubt you want to go through and veto the fun stuff first." Bucky leaned against Steve's big black GMC and gazed up into the endless blue. "Take me back to the hotel."

~

Steve got into the car and had to fight the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel. He was proud of his people skills. He could usually get the measure of his principals within the first hour, normally even quicker than that. It was one of his skills, his gifts, if you liked. He could read people - threats and allies, the ones he needed to protect and those who were around him and everyone else in between. He was a damn fine judge of character.

James Barnes, it appeared, was proving the exception to the rule. So far, he'd made three separate estimates of the man, and each time, he'd been proven wrong.

Except, had he? He looked at the way Barnes was slumped in the passenger seat now, silent and brooding and, if he wasn't very much mistaken, miserable. He'd been aloof and distant until they'd left the hotel, whimsical and polite in the diner, a complete asshole in the carpark, and now he was acting like a teenager who'd been mortally offended.

He was broken, Steve knew that much. It would just be a hell of a lot easier if Steve didn't have the urge to fix everyone he came across.

The ride back to the hotel was silent and strained, and out of the corner of his eye Steve saw Barnes go to speak no less than three times. Each time though, he would subside back down into his seat and go back to glaring out of the side window.

As they stepped out of the elevator, Barnes stormed ahead, threw the suite door open and just as violently, slammed it behind him.

Maybe he just needs a nap, Steve thought, trying not to be uncharitable. He didn't know exactly where Barnes had flown from that morning, but it hadn't been anywhere in the US. Jet lag was a bitch. He turned the key in the elevator control, checked the stair door was locked and went to his room.

There, he picked up the file from Fury he'd only skimmed through and began to read it properly. Somewhere, between the diplomatic speak and the bald facts of Barnes' brushes with the law, in several countries, should be some clues as to how Steve needed to approach this.

Thirty minutes later, Barnes barged into Steve's room.

"What is the meaning behind this?" he demanded, hands on hips. Gone was the sad puppy look, and in its place was the commanding presence of someone who was used to giving orders.

Steve tried to pretend that it wasn't more than a little attractive.

"Behind what, sir?"

"You've imprisoned me here! The lift doesn't work and the door to the stairs is locked. Are you afraid I'm going to sneak in a handful of druggies to have a party with?"

"Or maybe sneak off without me?" Steve stood, surreptitiously closing the file and sliding it under a book. "My instructions are to remain with you twenty-four-seven, so I can't have you sloping off on your own."

"I've been looking after myself for longer than you've been babysitting people," Barnes snapped. 

"Yes, and look what a sterling job you've been doing of it."

Barnes blinked, his jaw dropping.

Ah, Steve thought, replaying his last few words. Maybe he could have been a touch more tactful there. He braced himself, but whatever stream of invective he was expecting never came

"No one speaks to me like that." Barnes' voice was quiet, bewildered. 

"My apologies, sir." Steve sighed. "I overstepped the mark."

Barnes' mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. He sighed, pressing the finger and thumb of one hand to his closed eyes.

"No, no you didn't." Then Steve found himself looking into the saddest, most beautiful eyes he could ever remember seeing. "No one has bothered to say anything honest to me in years. All I get are platitudes from those lower down the food chain and complete indifference from those above. I can't recall the last time anyone spoke to me like I was a real person, as opposed to a meal ticket to parties or a crushing burden on the family name."

"I was still out of line," Steve tried, but Barnes waved a hand as if shooing a fly.

"Forget it. I just wanted out to go for a walk, get some fresh air. Can we do that?"

"Sure." Steve smiled and was rewarded with a tentative twitch of the lips. "I'll just get the keys."

At Barnes' request, Steve drove them east, up into the hills and found them a quiet trail to hike. Barnes was quiet but at least he'd lost that kicked puppy look. Steve definitely hadn't liked that expression at all. 

They walked for about an hour in near silence, until a bird flew past, chattering and squawking.

"What was that?" Barnes asked.

"Blue jay. We're probably encroaching on its territory."

"I must be really boring you."

Steve blinked a little at that. 

"Uh, no."

"I guess it doesn't matter if I am," Barnes mused. "I mean, you're getting paid to spend time with me. It's not like you're here of your own free will, so it doesn't matter if you're bored or actually enjoying yourself."

"Ok." Steve stopped in the middle of the path. "Seeing as how you're so taken with the idea of honesty, let me be honest with you. Yes, I'm being paid to be here, but I am not bored. When you're not being a spoiled brat, you're actually good company. So before I say any more and end up getting myself fired, shall we keep walking or do you want to turn back?"

~

"Well?" the voice on the phone said.

"Whoever this guy's parents are, I'd like to rip a strip of their hides," Steve said without preamble. 

"Daddy issues?" Fury asked.

"Nothing so simple." Steve flopped back onto the bed. "Self-esteem issues like I've never seen. He's been given everything he could possibly want except for a kind word. His family basically throw a ridiculous amount of money in his general direction, then ignore him."

"You gonna fix him?"

"Give it up, Nick. I only have a week. That's nowhere near long enough."

"Ah, yeah, about that."

Steve had heard that tone before.

"What have you done?"

"Well, seeing as how you've had him for three days and he's not appeared in a gossip magazine or been arrested, his father thinks you're something pretty special. You're now on a retainer. Every time he's in the country, you're to be his shadow."

"Oh hell, Nick." He closed his eyes. "You really sure that's a good idea?"

"Why not? You seem to get on ok."

"You mean he's not fired me yet."

"I mean," said Fury, "that he's not managed to ditch your sorry ass. His father warned me that all his lordship wants to do is get drunk, get laid, and screw over the family name. All I've heard from you is how this guy just wants someone to talk to who is going to see him for who he is and not what he's got in his bank account."

Sometimes Steve forgot just how astute Fury could be.

"So, keep up the good work?"

"Yeah, you got it."

~

Steve went and knocked on the door to Bucky's suite. He wasn't exactly sure at what point he'd stopped calling him Barnes in his mind and replaced it with Bucky, but it had kind of stuck. Bucky suited him, when he wasn't being a petulant brat. The last day or two had been spent mooching around shops, buying clothes, sightseeing, and whilst Bucky had been quiet, he'd still managed to be a stroppy prima donna when he wasn't being a miserable emo basket case.

Steve had no idea why he found him so endearing. Probably because in between those two seemingly default states, Bucky had the ability to be bitingly funny, even if the butt of his jokes was himself, often as not.

"I told you, you don't have to wait for me to open the door," Bucky said, yanking the offending object open. "It's not like you're going to interrupt anything."

Steve had to draw on every inch of his professional persona to maintain a neutral expression. Bucky was stripped to the waist, clad only in worn jeans that clung onto his hips with the most tenuous of grips.

"You going out like that?" Bucky asked, waving a hand at Steve's usual jeans and white t-shirt combo. "I think tonight you should probably break out a suit of some sort, although," he held up one hand before Steve could even draw breath. "Not that Men in Black ensemble you wore to collect me from the airport. I'm thinking something a little more classy. Club wear."

"You want to go clubbing?" That cut through the distinctly lewd thoughts Steve was having about the line of definition down between Bucky's abs. "Where?"

"There's this little club down by the Chinese place, the one with the handprints." Bucky waved his hands airily as he headed towards the walk in wardrobe in the corner of the room. "I've been there a couple of times before."

That, Steve discovered, was an understatement. When they got out of the car that pulled up by the strip of red carpet that ran from the kerb to the door, the doorman - bouncer, compere, maitre d', whoever - immediately recognised Bucky.

"Viscount Barnes! What a delight!" the man exclaimed, hurrying forward to unclip the thick red satin rope which hung from gold poles. "We haven't seen you here in months."

"Been busy, Manuel, you know how it goes." Bucky was standing taller than normal, back straight and head held high. He looked every inch the foreign prince and Steve had to remind himself to stop staring, to go back to watching the passing members of the public like any good bodyguard.

"New eyes?" Manuel asked, giving Steve a once over.

"Not quite." The look Bucky threw Steve was careless. "But where I go, he goes."

"Of course, sir." Manuel waved them both through the gap and clipped the rope back once they were past. "Please, this way. I am sure we will have a suitable table for you up top."

Steve followed behind Bucky as they made their way through the crowded club. They went through the first VIP checkpoint, Bucky not even glancing around him as he went. It was only as they stepped through the second doorway, into an inner sanctum that Steve had never been into before that Bucky relaxed a little. He smirked at Steve as a waiter sidled up to them.

"Drinks, m'sieurs?" the waiter asked.

"A bottle of Tattinger," Bucky said. Steve shook his head slightly. "And some Perrier for my sober friend here."

"Of course, sir."

"Not even one drink, Steve?" Bucky asked, waving off Manuel and throwing himself into a plushly appointed alcove. The table was round and the well-padded circular bench gave the illusion of privacy whilst still allowing patrons to watch what everyone else was doing. 

"I rarely drink even when I'm not working," Steve said. Something in Bucky's expression fluttered shut at Steve's words. 

"Ah yes, of course. How could we forget you're working tonight?" His gaze pulled inwards as he spoke, but then he suddenly grinned. "Does that mean you don't dance either?"

"I can dance a little," Steve allowed.

"Excellent. I shall just have to hope the music improves. Oh jeez, look who it isn't." His attention was diverted by the arrival of a couple of party goers.

"James, darling!" one of them cried, hands in the air. It took Steve a moment to figure out that the speaker was female and the one next to her was male. They both wore ridiculous amounts of makeup, matching silver trouser suits and their ice blond hair was cropped into a short and spiky style. 

"Alicia, darling, how delightful," Bucky said as she kissed him, but Steve didn't miss the dry tone to his voice. "And Antonio, it's been an age."

"An absolute age." Antonio leaned over Alicia and kissed Bucky full on the lips. Steve had to fight down the surge of jealousy which threatened his bland composure. "Who is the pretty muscle?"

"That is Steven," Bucky said, barely even glancing in Steve's direction. "What brings you out tonight?"

And that was him dismissed, Steve thought. He sat back as the waiter delivered their drinks, magically procuring another two glasses out of thin air as Alicia and Antonio slid into the booth next to Bucky. They lasted only as long as the bottle of bubbles did, disappearing as soon as Bucky had upended the last few drops into his own glass. 

"Well?" Bucky asked, a challenge in his voice.

"Interesting folks you know," Steve said. He sipped at his fizzy water. "Although they seem to have disappeared."

"Oh, there's plenty more where they came from." Bucky looked around for a waiter and pointed at his empty glass once he'd made eye contact with one. "Just watch. As soon as the next bottle of bubbles arrives, so will more people. It's a little magic trick I learned a long time ago."

Sure enough, no sooner had their waiter topped up Bucky's glass than a trio of young, pretty things arrived, sliding into the booth next to Bucky, forcing him to slide closer to Steve. Two skinny, hipster boys and a girl who didn't even look old enough to drive, let alone be out drinking all expressed their undying adoration of Bucky and their amazement and good fortune at seeing him out like this tonight, and then they all topped up their glasses from Bucky's bottle and proceeded to gossip about most of the other clientele. One of the boys draped himself over Bucky's shoulder like some limp human blanket and spent the next half an hour alternately drinking and trying to kiss Bucky. 

Once that bottle was empty, the trio all made their excuses and tottered off.

"Enjoying yourself?" Steve asked, watching the skinny hipsters spot their next prey and home in

"Of course," Bucky said, lifting his hand to attract their waiter. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"I don't know." Steve shrugged. "All this seems a bit tame, compared with what you're used to. Where's the cocaine? The hard liquor? And shouldn't you be getting into a fight about now?"

Bucky blinked at him, and Steve's earlier assessment that Bucky wasn't actually drinking all that much of the champagne was proved correct. That was far too sober a look for a man who'd just put away two bottle of bubbles, albeit with help.

"Okay, let me get some things out on the table here," he leaned forward, face completely serious and more than a touch pissed off. "One, I don't do drugs. I don't give a flying fuck what you've read or heard or even seen. I. Do. Not. Do. Drugs. Ever. I've lost too many friends like that. I don't even smoke weed. Two, as and when I want to start drinking something else, I will, have no fear of that." He glared at Steve. "And three, the fights are why you're here. Someone picks on me, I'm expecting you to wipe the floor with them."

Steve watched a whole series of complicated expressions flicker across Bucky's expressive face. Damn, but this guy was getting under his skin, Steve thought.

"Of course, sir," Steve said, probably with a touch more sarcasm than he'd initially intended.

Bucky's eyes narrowed for a moment, then suddenly, he flopped backwards in his seat and laughed.

"Oh my god, you really are the original all-American Boy Scout, aren't you?" He looked over at the waiter who hovered nearby. "Another bottle of Tattinger, an extra large Jack Daniels and more water for my pit-bull here."

"I always thought of myself as more of a Rottweiler," Steve said, with a shrug. 

Bucky's disbelieving stare was interrupted by the arrival of a handful of pretty girls with too much makeup and too little clothing who draped themselves over Bucky and, since he was there, Steve too. He didn't know whether to laugh or push them away with a stuttered objection.

"We like your friend," one of them said, sitting practically in Steve's lap. "Who are you, handsome?"

"That's Steve." Bucky waved the hand that wasn't wrapped around the waist of the closest girl. "He's sober, but you'll find him the perfect gentleman, don't worry."

"I'm hoping he won't be too perfect," the girl giggled. "You're cute."

"He is, isn't he?" Bucky topped up the girls' glasses, then frowned at the empty bottle. "I think I've had enough of this." He waved a hand at the waiter.

Steve didn't hear what he ordered though, as the girl on his lap, who introduced herself as Courtney, began to chatter away, pointing out various people around the place and telling him all the gossip. Which mostly seemed to consist of who they'd slept with and how many times they'd been arrested for doing a variety of drugs. Steve was actually quite relieved when the waiter appeared with a single glass for Bucky and took the empty bottle away.

"Sorry ladies," Bucky said as the girls pouted. "No more bubbles tonight. I'm sure there's some up and coming pop star in the corner over there who would be delighted to see you, though." He waved a hand in the general direction of a loud group on the far side of the room. Steve looked and thought he vaguely recognised a few of the people there. Then he spotted the singer.

"Oh god," he groaned, as the girls all tottered off towards fresh hunting grounds. "Seriously? I didn't know he came here."

"You know him?"

"Parker, eco-warrior rapper. Likes to think he's saving the planet with his music."

"You've babysat him, then?" Bucky sat back with his glass, swirling the amber liquid around the single chunk of ice. 

"Yeah. I don't appreciate being ignored however, so I told my boss to find someone else for his detail."

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I'm sorry, Steve, am I offending your tender sensibilities by not spending enough time talking to you?"

Steve fixed Bucky in place with an unblinking glare, and after a moment, Bucky actually looked away.

"What I meant," Steve said, sliding a little closer so he could speak quietly. "Was that if I say there is a threat or that I need my principal to do something for his or her safety, I expect them to comply. My job is to keep you safe. You would not ignore me if I suddenly said there was an issue and we needed to leave now, would you?" 

It was more of a statement than a question, and Bucky shook his head, wide eyed. 

"And if I put myself between you and the perceived threat whilst escorting you from the premises, would you try and duck around me to go back to whichever stupid party you were part of?" Steve knew he was speaking a little more forcefully than normal, but there was no way he was imagining the way Bucky's eyes were dilating.

"You'd do that?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Which part?"

"Put yourself between me and someone who wanted to attack me." 

Something possessive and protective surged up inside Steve and he moved close enough so his knee brushed against Bucky's under the round table.

"In a heartbeat. It's what I do. Your life is worth more than mine, remember."

"No!" The smack of the glass hitting the table made several people look over, but at least it didn't break. Bucky's outburst startled Steve though. "It is not!"

"Excuse me?" 

"Your life isn't worth less than mine! Nobody's life is worth more than someone else's, that's bullshit, Steve, complete bullshit. Your life is worth the same as mine, as hers, as his." He waved a hand around the club, face shuttered now. "The only difference is, some people can pay others to believe that their lives are worth more than others." He muttered something under his breath that was definitely not English, and picked up the glass to knock the rest of the contents back in one swallow. The waiter was there a second later with a fresh one. Bucky glared at Steve. "Western capitalist bullshit," he said.

"And the Communists were so perfect with their equality, obviously," Steve replied.

Bucky glowered. There was no other words for the expression on his face, and Steve had to suppress a smile. 

"I loathe the Communists, their regimes, their dictatorships, their committees and every single god damn thing they stand for. Except the part about where maybe people should actually be equal, but even that has been warped beyond recognition."

"Because some people are more equal than others?"

One of Bucky's eyebrows rose.

"Wow, Orwell, really?"

Steve shrugged.

"Libraries are warm and dry, and you can sit and read all day for free."

Again, Bucky's expression changed. Steve couldn't keep up with these mercurial moods, especially when it meant he found himself being looked at with a strange combination of sympathy and something that looked almost respectful.

"You're too smart to be doing this job." Bucky tossed back half the measure of whiskey in his glass. 

"You'd want a dumbass watching your back?"

"They normally send someone who can't string two sentences together," Bucky shrugged.

"Sorry I broke the mould." Steve glanced around the club. "Funny how all your little friends have disappeared now there's no more champagne."

"They'll be back later once they're completely pissed up." Bucky was staring into his glass, swirling the lone piece of ice around in the scant half inch of liquid. "They choose their victims depending on which one is likely to have the best hotel room or the biggest breakfast. Or even who might be amenable to take them shopping tomorrow."

"More shopping?" Steve couldn't help his wince and was rewarded with a bark of a laugh.

"Have I been boring you, Mr Rogers?" Bucky asked with a smirk. "Or should I call you Captain?"

"At least you've been doing your research." Picking up his Perrier, Steve took a sip as he looked around. "I wouldn't say I was bored, exactly. Just, shopping really isn't my idea of entertainment. There are only so many pairs of jeans a guy can buy."

"Really?"

"Bucky, I own three decent pairs of jeans," Steve said. "And have another couple of tatty ones for yard work and working on the bike."

"I brought eight pairs with me for this week." He tipped the glass to get the last drops. "And five suits." Bucky beckoned the nearest waiter over, then seemed to do a double take. "You have a bike?"

"Yeah." Steve grinned. "I've got a couple. A 1942 Harley and a 1941 BSA with a sidecar."

"Seriously?" Bucky threw his head back and laughed. "Oh my god, Steve. I was expecting you to have some kind of Harley, but a wartime one?"

"I like the classics, what can I say?"

"I had a Triumph Tiger a year or so ago. Beautiful bike, but how i never killed myself on it, I don't know." He nodded at the waiter as another glass of bourbon was put in front of him. "Oh, crap."

Steve's head came up sharply at Bucky's tone, but the only thing he could see was a tall, elegant man in a sharp suit.

"James," the man said, voice smooth and definitely not American. "How delightful to see you." He slid into the booth next to Bucky uninvited and leaned over to brush his cheek against Bucky's. "I didn't know you were in town, dear boy."

"Just for a few days, Toby." 

Steve immediately disliked the guy. He wasn't sure if it was the proprietorial attitude he had towards Bucky, or the way Bucky seemed to fold in on himself.

"You should have called me. We must do dinner, tomorrow."

"I don't think I can," Bucky began, but the unwelcome company steamrollered over the top of him.

"Nonsense. Dinner, tomorrow. I'll send a car, yes? You're staying at the usual place?"

Bucky opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. Steve didn't like this at all.

"I'm afraid Lord Barnes is leaving tomorrow," Steve said. 

Toby barely glanced at Steve.

"Call your pilot and reschedule," Toby said. "Or better still, come with me now."

That was fear, Steve thought, looking at Bucky's face. Whoever this guy was, Bucky was genuinely cowed by him and every single protective instinct in Steve's body came screaming to the fore. 

"My apologies sir," Steve said to Bucky, sliding out of the booth and standing. "But we need to leave now."

Toby snorted in disdain, placing a hand on Bucky's arm.

"Don't be ridiculous. Dismiss this officious muscle, James, and come with me instead."

Steve glanced around the room.

"My lord, I believe there is an issue. The primary exit is clear."

Toby glared at Steve and also stood.

"Are you saying you think I am an 'issue'?" Toby asked. His voice could have cut glass, but Steve kept his face completely bland. He watched Bucky get to his feet behind Toby.

"Please excuse us, sir." He stepped smartly around Toby, slipped his hand into the crook of Bucky's elbow and had them halfway across the room before Toby could stop them. 

Bucky didn't need encouragement. He was shaking, Steve realised and he was also leaning into Steve as they walked. Pausing by the inner doorway, Steve flagged down Manuel.

"Viscount Barnes isn't feeling well," he said. "Please send the bill to his normal address."

"Of course," Manuel nodded, hands clasped together. "I do hope to see you again, Viscount Barnes. And soon."

Bucky nodded, distracted and Steve realised he was looking in the mirrors that lined the wall around the doorway. Toby was following.

"Who is that guy and how much trouble am I going to be in when I knock him out?" Steve asked quietly as they strode briskly towards the next doorway.

"If you lamp him one, we'll end up in every gossip rag in town."

Steve sighed. No fighting, he decided, although the urge to lay that creepy dude out with one good right hook was seriously strong. Evasion, then. He could do that.

"I need you to keep up," Steve said. "And do exactly as I say."

Just before they got to the front exit, Steve turned sharp left, leading Bucky through the dense crowd of clubbers. He frowned and fixed his eyes on the far wall and everybody just melted out of his way. It was one of the few occasions he used his size to intimidate people. At the end of the bar, he flashed his ID at the security guy and they were immediately ushered through the nearly invisible door and into a service corridor.

"Seriously?" Bucky looked around in shock. "How did you do that?"

"In a town full of the ridiculously rich and the outrageously famous, you always have to have an escape plan." Steve pulled his phone out and called their driver. "Okay, he'll be at the rear doors in a couple of minutes. You okay?" He grasped Bucky by the arms and looked at him searchingly. "Be honest with me."

"Physically, fine. Mentally, a little shook up." Bucky shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"So who was that guy?" Steve stood back and folded his arms. "And more to the point, why wasn't I warned about him?"

"Because he's German and I didn't expect to see him here." Bucky sagged against the wall behind him. 

"And?"

"Oh god, long story." He covered his eyes and sighed. "Look, you know the Fifty Shades book?"

"Unfortunately, yeah, I do."

"Toby likes to think he's the next Mr Grey. Except without the contracts."

A hundred unpleasant images flashed through Steve's mind and he stepped forward, hand sliding along Bucky's shoulder to rest warm against the back of his neck. 

"If I see him again, I may not be so restrained."

Bucky smiled, so wide-eyed and grateful that Steve could hardly get his breath. Bucky's lips parted on an indrawn breath and everything suddenly narrowed down to the air between them. It would be so easy, he thought, just to dip his head and press his mouth to Bucky's, to know what he tasted like, spiced with bourbon and want. 

He was saved by the phone in his pocket pinging. A few minutes later, he had Bucky safely in the back of the limo, heading back to the hotel. Bucky wanted to find somewhere else to drink, but Steve vetoed that.

"If he knows you're in town, he may well check out the places you normally drink. So we will go back to the hotel and I will ensure that the front desk knows not to allow a soul up to your suite. I will lock down the elevator and, if necessary, sit in a chair outside your door all night to keep that creepy son of a bitch away from you."

"Why do you care?" Bucky asked. The car pulled up at the side entrance as Steve had instructed. Steve shrugged.

"What human being wouldn't?" Steve opened the door and glanced around, checking the side alley was clear before he let Bucky get out of the limo. "But, since you asked, I like you. You're a nice guy who does not deserve to be hassled by douchebags like him."

"Douchebags, Steve? Really?" Bucky laughed, and then wobbled a bit as the fresh air hit him. 

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. Thanks, Max," he said to the driver. 

Steve steered Bucky into the hotel and up to the suite, thankfully without any interruption. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd do if faced with Toby again, but the urge to knock him clean across the lobby was startlingly strong. 

"My own personal guard dog," Bucky mused, leaning against the wall of the elevator. "How did you get into this line of work anyway? You're too nice and too smart to be wasting your time following losers like me around, keeping them out of trouble."

"That's a long story for another day." The elevator doors opened and once they were out, Steve sent the car back to the ground floor and locked the access. "Right, elevator is out of order, stairs are locked. You, go get some sleep. And drink some water."

"You aren't a rottweiler, you're a nanny." Bucky blinked at him. "Although the only rottweiler I ever met was the biggest softy." 

Steve chuckled.

"Get some sleep, Buck. I'll wake you for breakfast." He opened the suite door and waited for Bucky to wander through. "Oh, what's that Toby guy's last name?"

"Huh? Oh, Zola. German with South African and Austrian parents. Basket case. Likes to conduct social experiments on his 'dates'." Bucky sighed. "Thanks, Steve."

And then he turned and vanished into his suite.

Steve rattled off a quick email to Fury once he was in his own bedroom. He wanted a little forewarning of this guy, if he should ever appear again, and thought that maybe he should give Fury the heads up that Steve was likely to wipe the floor with Toby, should he try anything again.

He definitely did _not_ spend a good portion of the night thinking about what Bucky looked like when he kissed pretty boys. Definitely. 

~

The view over the water was stunning. Tiny dancing waves threw back the sun as a million glittering diamonds, and the sky was so blue it was almost painful. Joggers and roller-bladers crisscrossed in front of where they sat, lithe young things with not a spare ounce of fat between them.

"What do you want to do today?" Steve asked.

Bucky sat with his arms folded, head tipped back and staring at the sky through his black ray-bans. Steve wasn't entirely sure if he was asleep or not. After a long moment, Bucky's head tipped towards him a fraction. 

"I don't know. You're the noble one around here. Maybe you should suggest something that isn't a waste of time, or that could give my miserable empty existence some meaning."

"May I suggest laying off the whiskey?" Steve watched a young, hip roller-blader slide past, something in the set of the guy's shoulders reminding him of Sam. "It makes you melancholy as fuck."

Bucky barked a laugh and tipped forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"You're really getting into this honesty thing, aren't you?" But there was a genuine smile on his face. "So what would you suggest?"

"How much do you normally spend on an evening out?"

Bucky shrugged.

"Dunno. In this town? Between four and six hundred dollars maybe. Depends how many hangers-on I attract, or if I do any damage. Last night was dead quiet. I barely even dented the mini bar when I got back."

"Okay. So, how about we eat at Aggie's again tonight, and I'll show you something else you can do with those six hundred dollars."

Bucky pushed his glasses up onto his forehead. There was a definite hint of curiosity in his eyes now, which sure beat the dull self-loathing of last night.

"As long as it doesn't involve soup kitchens."

"What's wrong with soup kitchens?" That was oddly specific, Steve thought.

"When I was eighteen, my father made me work for a week at a soup kitchen in Bucharest in punishment for something I had done."

"And you hated it."

Bucky shook his head slowly.

"I made friends there. By the end of the week, I offered to volunteer there whenever they needed me. I did a few weekends, nothing serious, just helping in the kitchen, talking to people who came in." He was looking inwards now, and Steve hated the expression on his face. "I started buying little things, never anything too obvious but one weekend they needed more cups, so I got some. And I'd bring food, little treats like cannoli from the bakery near my house."

"So what happened?"

"My father packed me off to Paris, to Normale Sup'." 

"But you were helping."

"I was making friends with the wrong sorts of people. Doing community service as penance was a perfectly acceptable thing for me to do, according to him. Doing it because I actually liked the people there? They weren't people to him. They were somewhere between us and common farm animals, these creatures with no hope or money or roofs over their head." Bucky looked up and gave Steve a twisted little smile. "So I went to Paris and promptly got arrested for drunk driving. I put my Citroën in the Seine."

"I'm not keen on European cars," Steve said offhand, and Bucky actually smiled.

"I have a Jaguar in London. Come drive that and I bet you anything you'll change your tune."

"London?"

"Yeah. Official residence." He was back to scowling again. 

"What's wrong with London? I'd love to see the place."

"Nice place to visit, but living there sucks. You think this town is expensive?" Bucky sat forward and peered over his glasses at a pair of slim, pretty boys who rollerbladed past hand in hand. 

"So if you could live anywhere, the world over, where would you choose?"

"Are you reporting back to my father?"

Steve found himself pinned with a fierce glare and he held up placating hands.

"Hey, only a question. Don't answer it if you don't want to. But for your information, I'm not reporting back to your father."

"What about the guy my father deals with? Black dude, one eye, scary as fuck."

"Fury? I tell him some things. Mostly what we do each day. Not what we talk about, if that's what you're worrying over."

Bucky slumped back down, eyes closing behind his glasses. Steve marvelled at the length of the dark lashes which now rested on his pale cheeks.

"Best place in the world to live would be anywhere my family isn't. Vancouver is good, as are some parts of England. The Canary Islands are warm and bleakly pretty. Oslo and Stockholm are good cities."

"Don't you have roots anywhere?"

Bucky huffed.

"Nope. I have a flat in London. The garage we rent almost costs more than the hotel I'm staying in at the moment. There's a small house to the south of Paris my family uses, a chateau in Switzerland. We have thousands of acres of land in Eastern Europe. A brownstone in New York. And I don't have a home anywhere."

Steve couldn't help it. He reached out and placed a hand on Bucky's. 

"Hey," he said softly. Bucky had frozen beneath the touch. "Come on, up you get." He curled his fingers around Bucky's hand and suddenly jumped up, tugging Bucky to his feet. "Enough of this pity party. Let's go."

~

"An animal shelter? Seriously?" Bucky slid down in his seat and closed his eyes again. "Have fun."

"Get out of the car, Barnes," Steve ordered and damn it if Bucky's entire body didn't twitch at that tone. Grumbling to cover his reaction, he did as he was told. 

The building was a single story concrete structure, painted white to reflect the blinding sun. From around the back, he could hear a cacophony of barking and winced.

"This is cruel," he said, falling into step with Steve. "Could you have found anywhere noisier to bring me?"

"Santa Pod?"

Steve pushed through the doors first into the surprisingly cool interior. A counter ran along the back, with chairs on the facing side. Posters and pictures of all manner of mongrels adorned the walls and a table held fundraising bits and pieces.

"Good lord, if it isn't Steve Rogers!" a chirpy voice exclaimed. Bucky pulled his attention from the pictures of sad -ooking puppies on the walls just in time to see a broad white woman with a long grey ponytail fling her arms around Steve's middle. The fact she didn't even come up to his armpit made Bucky smile. "I've not seen you in months, dear."

"Been a little busy, Vera. This here is my friend Bucky. Thought, if you don't mind, I could show him what you do."

"Be my guests," she smiled. "It's truly lovely to see you. I'm afraid we've only got two litters of puppies right now, but there are some kittens as well, and a dear little three-legged sheep that someone turfed out onto the main highway above the hills."

Bucky followed Steve behind the counter and out back, and saw once again how much people really loved him. He was greeted by everyone they passed, got hugs and smiles and at one point, someone thrust a tiny kitten into his hands.

"I know you can't take one," the old guy who'd been feeding them said. "But I know how you like to cuddle 'em. This here your friend?"

"Yeah. Bucky, this is Gabe. He's worked here since before they paved the road out front. Gabe, this is my friend Bucky."

Bucky wasn't sure if it was the kitten which Gabe dropped in his hands, or the fact Steve had introduced him as a friend, yet again, which stunned him most. He blinked, looking down at the tiny bundle of fur in his palms. It was ginger, with huge blue eyes and it mewled at him.

"Oh my god, that's too cute," he blurted, and Steve laughed.

"Never held a kitten before?"

"No." Bucky stared at the tiny creature. It mewled again and licked his finger with a tiny pink raspy tongue. "It's so small."

"Duh. It's a kitten," Steve said, and Bucky had to look up at the warm amusement in his voice. Steve was looking at him with that same, fond smile he'd used the day before, and Bucky didn't know how to take it. The way Steve had of actually looking at him like he was important was starting to play tricks with his mind. Any day now, and Bucky might start to believe he actually _was_ important. And he knew how that usually ended.

"It's so cute." Bucky held it up and the kitten made a grab for his nose with both front paws. "I mean, there should be laws against being this adorable." He rubbed his cheek against the top of the soft head and got mewled at again. “Did Vera say there were puppies too?"

Steve showed him around the whole place, pointing out where rescued animals were housed until they found new homes, how injured wildlife was nursed back to health so it could be released back into the wild again, and where long term residents lived out their days in a clean, safe environment.

"This old thing has been here for years," Steve said, scratching behind the ears of a mongrel that looked a little like a beagle. "Soft as anything, but absolutely hates living in a house. She likes her kennel and fresh air, but most of the folks who want to adopt her want a house pet. She'll come for food and a fuss, but would rather lie out here." He waved at the pen she was living in. "A bit of grass to sunbathe on and some dirt to dig, plus a dry spot to sleep in. It's not asking much, is it?"

"How much does it cost to run a place like this?" Bucky asked, looking around. The puppy he held had gone to sleep in his arms, tiny pink nose snuggled into the crook of his elbow. He'd given the kitten back with some reluctance, but then Steve had handed him this six week old ball of fluff and Bucky was smitten.

"Most of the workers are volunteers, but there's food and vets' bills and general upkeep." Steve shrugged. "I don't know amounts, but I reckon at least a couple of hundred dollars a day. Minimum."

Bucky felt very small and very foolish just then. He spent his life swanning from one party to another, spending money he'd never earned on ephemeral pleasures. He looked down at the sleeping puppy.

"I've never been anywhere like this before," he said, stroking over the pup's silky soft head with one finger. It snuffled. "Okay, you're right. This is definitely a better use of six hundred bucks." 

Steve grinned at him. 

"There's a donation bucket on the front desk," he said, lifting the pup he held up to his face and nuzzling into its soft fur. “Vera is going to be thrilled."

They spent another hour there, cuddling the other puppies, laughing at the antics of the three-legged sheep whose sole goal in life was to eat anything that crossed its path, and talking with the other volunteers. 

"Come back soon, Steve,” Vera said as they finally headed out of the low white building into the heat of the carpark. "Don't leave it so long next time." She beamed at Bucky. "And bring your friend back. You can spend all day cuddling the puppies if you like."

Bucky laughed. 

"I'd love to." He fished his wallet out of his pocket and had a quick look inside. "Can I give you a donation?" he asked.

"Well, that's mighty generous of you,” Vera said. "There's a bucket back in there." She pointed over her shoulder into the building.

"You empty the bucket though, right?"

"Every night. I count up all the nickels and dimes and quarters." She smiled at him. In the lined and weathered face, Bucky could see traces of the luminous beauty she had been in her youth.

"Well, here," he fished some notes out of his wallet and handed them over. "Put it straight in your safe, or wherever you keep the proceeds." 

Vera’s jaw dropped as she looked at the money in her hand.

"Come on, Steve," Bucky said, wanting to get away before she realised just how much he'd given her. "I'm starving. It was nice meeting you, Vera.”

"But this is-"

"What you do here is worth every penny." He opened the door of the truck and smiled. "I never held a kitten before," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"How much did you give her?" Steve asked as the pulled out of the carpark and headed back down the road. Vera was still standing by the front door, staring after them in shock.

"Uh, not sure. Seven or eight hundred dollars." He shrugged. "I gave her all the hundreds I had."

Steve shook his head on a laugh.

"What? It leaves me enough for dinner and I won't be tempted to buy another bottle of Jack on the way back to the hotel, right?"

"Like you couldn't use one of the five credit cards in there."

"Hush," Bucky chided him absently, turning away to stare out of the window. "She used to be a movie star, didn't she?" 

"Yeah. She was big in the seventies."

Bucky nodded to himself. That someone like her could go from a bright, glitzy lifestyle in the public eye, to running something like that struck a nerve. No one saw her there, no one cared what she was doing. But, in her own way, she was making a difference, doing something that counted and it was that more than anything which made Bucky want to go back and give her everything else he had in his wallet, cards included. 

He wanted to do something that counted, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything. He wasn't capable of doing anything. Somewhere along the way, his father would probably stop him or insist he do something different or send him somewhere for 'diplomatic' reasons. 

"Whatever you're thinking about," Steve interrupted his train of thought. "I reckon you should probably stop because you're looking a bit green around the gills."

"Aren't you the cheerful one?" Bucky muttered, but he had to agree. "Okay, so how about food?"

"We'll be at Aggie's in twenty minutes. And this time, you have _got_ to try her chilli and nachos."

Aggie was thrilled to see them, and sat them in the same booth. Once they'd ordered their food, Bucky couldn't help himself from asking the obvious question. Steve just laughed at him.

"Oh, Sam and I had a thing for a few months. He basically slept with everything that crossed his path at one point." Steve smiled into his coffee. "It never changed our friendship though, even though I warned him that one day he'd fall in love and it would blindside him so hard he'd still be spinning twelve months later."

"What happened?" asked Bucky. He'd never met this guy, but Steve had mentioned him so often over the past couple of days, he felt a vested interest in his well-being.

"He met a Russian girl who tipped his whole world upside down." Steve huffed a laugh. "I had to endure months and months of pining and angst until he finally realised what was happening."

"Then what?"

"He proposed. He and Nat have been married nearly two years now." 

"Happy ever after?" 

He honestly hadn't meant it to come out as bitter as it had sounded, and he studied his coffee intently, not wanting to see the disappointed expression he knew would be on Steve's face.

"It does exist, you know."

"Not in my world." He risked a glance up and suddenly couldn't breathe.

Steve didn't look disappointed or disapproving or even resigned to hearing such things from Bucky. Instead, he looked sad and concerned and like he actually cared.

Which was the stupidest fucking thing Bucky had ever thought. No one actually cared, for god's sake. Not about him as a person. 

Thankfully, their food arrived just then, and Bucky was able to deflect any further discussion by turning the conversation to food. 

"Just so you know, I'm only here for the brownies," he told Aggie when she placed his big bowl of nachos on the table.

"I made double batches of brownies and apple pie today," she replied with a laugh. "Figured you two would be back at some point."

"Just can't stay away from food this good." He grinned at her and Steve laughed. His whole face lit up when he did. They only had another day or so, and Bucky decided that he wanted to hear that laugh as many times as he could between now and then.

God, he was so screwed.

It was dark when they got back to the hotel. Steve handed his keys over to the valet and they strolled into the hotel together, talking about nothing in particular. It felt good, Bucky realised. Comfortable and easy, and Steve was relaxed around him in ways that no one else ever was. Steve treated him like a proper person, not a meal ticket or an irritation to be pacified and diverted elsewhere. They actually had proper conversations and Bucky had learned so much about the town he'd visited a dozen times before, seen parts of it that he never knew existed. 

“I visit all these cities,” Bucky mused as they stepped out of the elevator. “And yet, I never really _see_ them.”

“That’s because you’re not looking.” Steve moved ahead, using the card to open the door to the suite. He turned and the breadth of his shoulders made Bucky’s mouth dry. “You have to actually look beyond the clubs and hotels and airports. I’d love to have travelled as much as you have. London and Paris, for example, two places I dearly want to see.”

"You could always come work for me, you know," Bucky said, aiming for ultra-casual but probably coming across as just pathetic. "I mean," he added when Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You don't really see much of the world, working here. I travel a lot." 

"Bucky." Steve looked away, something complicated passing over his face. "God, you have no idea how much I'd love to do something like that."

"But?" Bucky felt his stomach drop. 

"It's complicated." Steve ran his hand through his hair with a sigh.

"Yeah, it's okay, I understand." He shrugged, crossing to the window and looking out over the brightly lit city. "It's not me, it's you, blah blah. It's okay, you can say you don't want to spend any more time with my sorry ass, I'll understand."

"It's not like that!" 

Bucky nearly leapt out of his skin as Steve grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Steve looked almost - angry?

"If I could, I would leap at the chance to stay with you," Steve said, his hand not leaving Bucky's shoulder. "But I owe Nick a great deal and I couldn't just cut and run on him, no matter how much I'd like to."

"What do you owe him?" Now, debts he understood. Some debts you could repay with actions, most with money. 

"My sanity and my life."

Bucky stared. Steve wasn't joking either, he saw. 

"The Army?" 

"Came back from Afghanistan in a bad way. Nick gave me a focus and an ear, and to this day, I don't know which helped the most." Steve smiled sadly, taking his hand away and crossing his arms. "I was luckier than most, to be honest. Some guys came back to nothing, and they still have nothing. Homeless vets are more common that folks realise, and very few have enough health insurance to deal with ongoing issues."

Shell shock, Bucky thought, or whatever they called it over here. 

"I did two years national service," he admitted quietly. "Except, being who I was, they wouldn't let me actually go fight people. They trained me to use guns, to drive tanks and trucks and fly planes and helicopters - all skills which could be used to showcase the great things our country has. But I've never been fired at in anger. I've never shot anything more taxing than a painted target." 

"Nothing I read mentions any of that," Steve said. "Surely, some military service would rate at least a footnote?"

Bucky shrugged.

"I don't talk about it. It's embarrassing." He bit his lip and looked up at Steve. "Real soldiers are getting shot at and killed all the time. I wanted to be allowed to fight but… I've never deserved to be called a soldier. Ceremonial popinjay, maybe. Regimental mascot." 

"Stop it."

“It’s the truth.”

“Going to war isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don’t be bitter about not being allowed to use your skills. Be thankful that you didn’t have to.”

Bucky stared at him, and Steve shrugged.

“Is that all, sir?” he asked.

Bucky nodded, and watched Steve turn on his heel and all but march out of the suite. He couldn’t figure out what he’d said to make Steve suddenly change like that. 

~

"I'm sorry about last night," Steve said, as soon as he walked into the suite the next morning. Bucky was sprawled on the bed on his stomach, reading a newspaper and he looked up, puzzled.

"For what?"

Like that, he looked so young, Steve thought. He wore soft grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with a deep v-neck which showed a glimpse of collar bone and smooth, pale skin. He didn't seem like the weight of the world was on his shoulders for once, and Steve decided it was a good look on him.

"For being so abrupt last night. About the Army stuff." He dropped into the chair nearest the bed and rubbed his eyes. "I forget, sometimes, that your view of the real world and mine differ so much."

"You mean that mine isn't actually of the real world." 

"I didn't say that."

Bucky shrugged.

"You didn't have to. But," he said, holding up a hand. "I'd like to know what I said wrong."

Steve sighed. This was the hard bit, the verbalizing of everything that was skipping around inside his head.

“You never had to go to war,” he said, picking each word carefully. “You didn’t have to fight. No one sent you on a mission where you had to kill another human being.” He looked down at his hands. “Maybe you feel that learning all those skills and not being allowed to use them was a waste of time and resources and effort, and maybe it was. But I’m glad you never had to use those skills in anger.”

He couldn’t find any more words, and he felt like the ones he’d used were weak and insipid, but when he looked up, Bucky was staring at him with an expression that was dangerously close to compassionate.

“So what do you suggest I use them for?”

Steve summoned up a wry smile. A week ago, he had the feeling that Bucky would have brushed him off without a second thought. But now?

“I don’t know. Soup kitchens on a grand scale – go fly aid in and out of Sierra Leone or something.”

Cackling, Bucky rolled around until he was sat on the edge of the bed. Soft sweatpants didn’t conceal much and Steve had to look away, lest he be caught staring. 

“Yeah, I can really see my father agreeing to that.” He stretched. “So what are our plans today?”

“I have no idea. You never did give me your itinerary. Where do you want to go?”

They ended up heading north out of LA, driving for just over an hour until they were deep in the green forests, climbing up towards the ridge line. There, Steve turned onto the desert road.

“You said take you somewhere different,” Steve said, winding the window down and taking a deep breath. Clean pine and the faint touch of desert dust was all he could smell.

“Trees,” Bucky said with a frown. “Why more trees?”

Grinning, Steve nodded further down the road.

“Pay attention,” he said.

Bucky muttered something under his breath and looked down to play with his phone for a minute. Then he looked up again.

“Holy shit.”

Laughing, Steve pulled over to the side of the road.

“What the hell did you do?” Bucky exclaimed. “Drive us through a worm hole?”

“Welcome to the desert, Buck.”

In front of them was nothing but sand and dust and sage brush. Steve watched as Bucky turned in his seat, looking at the mountain ridge behind them.

“That is seriously weird,” Bucky said. “How?”

Steve gave him a brief rundown on how the mountains caught all the clouds coming off the Pacific, and so all the water fell on the western side, leaving the eastern side dry as dust.

“Edwards Air Force base is over there,” he waved his hand. “But down here, there’s the best place for burritos on this side of the Mexican border. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

They ate burritos with their fingers, dipping nachos into some shockingly spicy salsa and cool sour cream. Then, at Bucky’s request, worked their way south down the mountain ridge, criss-crossing back and forth to drive from desert to forest and back again. 

“Where’s that go?” he asked, as they went underneath a wide interstate.

“Vegas.” Steve threw him an amused glance. “Next time, yeah?”

“Definitely.” 

The whole day, Bucky was cheerful and engaging. He told Steve stories about his time in Paris and St Petersburg, about the restaurants in London and Rome that he liked to visit. 

Steve wondered if Bucky realised what he was doing. As much as Steve wanted to visit all these places, he couldn’t cut and run on Nick. He owed him too much.

The sky was turning shades of red and gold and orange as they headed back towards civilisation.

“I really don’t want to go back to the hotel,” Bucky sighed, pulling the first grumpy face of the day.

“We aren’t.” Steve had already decided where they were going. “We’re taking a small detour.”

He’d taken principals there before, of course, but the look of absolute delight on Bucky’s face when Steve pulled up outside the VIP entrance to Disneyland made something in Steve’s chest flip over. Part of him wished he could take a picture, capture that one moment of pure happiness forever.

“Seriously?”

“Apparently the budget for this trip is still well and truly in the black, so Fury arranged a couple of golden tickets for us.” Steve jumped out as the valet approached. “Come on. Ever been on Space Mountain?”

~

It was approaching midnight when they made it back to the hotel. Riding up in the elevator, feeling tired and content, Steve wrapped his fingers protectively around the phone in his pocket. He’d taken several dozen photographs of Bucky that evening and was going to break more than a few protocols by keeping every, single one. He glanced at Bucky as the elevator reached the penthouse.

“What’s up?” he asked. The Bucky standing next to him wasn’t the happy, excited one that had been on Pirates of the Caribbean three times. 

“Nothing.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. The elevator doors opened and Steve followed Bucky into the suite. He stopped by the door, adopting parade rest and watched as Bucky prowled through the suite, out onto the balcony, back inside, through the main room, the bedroom and finally, with a deep sigh, leaned against the huge window that overlooked the sprawling city.

“Stop standing there like some kind of sphinx.”

“Do sphinxes stand?” Steve asked

Bucky threw him a filthy look.

“You know what I mean.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “How much trouble would you be in if I ran away during the night?”

“The elevator is shut down.”

“I know that. But theoretically?”

“A lot. Probably lose my job. Depends if you turned up at some point before they got to court.”

“Jesus.” Bucky closed his eyes. “So why do you do it?”

“Taking care of people is one thing I’m good at.” Steve crossed the room to stand by him. 

“What if they don’t want to be taken care of? What if they want to run away and never have to go home?”

Steve put his hand out, resting it on Bucky’s shoulder. A tremor went through Bucky’s whole body.

“Sometimes, people need saving from themselves.”

Bucky nodded slowly. 

"Can we go to Aggie's for brunch tomorrow?" he asked. He looked up at Steve through dark eyelashes and something painful flipped over in Steve's chest.

"Yeah, Buck, of course we can. We don't have to be at the airport until one." A quick glance at his watch told him the unwelcome news that they only had another thirteen hours together. 

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you away from your agency?" he asked. "There are some great perks for working for me, if you ignore the fact that it's me you actually have to spend time with."

"Enough." Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky other shoulder, pulling him around to face to face, unable to bear the sad expression a moment longer. "How many times do I have to tell you, stop putting yourself down?" 

"It's the normal state of affairs. Everyone else does it."

"Not me, Bucky. Not me. I've tried almost everything I can think of to help you see how good you are." 

"How are you so perfect?" Bucky reached up and cupped Steve's cheek. "I've spent an entire week with you and I've not seen one fault."

"I've got faults. Nobody is perfect." This was fast slipping into dangerous territory, Steve thought. But he didn't pull away from the contact. If anything Steve leaned into the touch slightly. It appeared that that was all Bucky had been waiting for.

Bucky pulled him close and pressed their mouths together. For the first few seconds, Steve froze. He'd thought about this but had never expected Bucky to make a move in this way. He was nothing like the kind of people Bucky went for. He wasn't a young hipster or a skinny socialite or a spoilt rich kid looking for idle entertainment. He'd watched Bucky cut a swathe through the in-crowd a few nights ago, and _none_ of them had looked even remotely like Steve.

Then Bucky was pulling away, eyes dropping, a muttered apology hanging in the air between them and Steve was not having that. He tugged Bucky back in close, slipped the fingers of one hand around the back of Bucky's neck and then, his eyes firmly on Bucky's, kissed him.

Bucky melted in his arms. There was no other way of describing it. He went pliant, moulding himself against Steve, and kissed back in earnest.

Every nerve in Steve's body lit up, and he pulled Bucky closer. He fit so perfectly in Steve's arms, tucked up tight against him, and there was something so trusting in the way he let Steve hold him.

It was that trust that made him realise what he was doing.

"God, Bucky, wait." Steve was breathing hard as he pulled back. "I can't."

"Can't, won't, or don't want to?" Bucky's lips were red and kiss-swollen, but the sudden flash of hurt in his eyes was too much for Steve.

"Oh god," he groaned, tugging Bucky back in for another kiss. "I want to, so much. You have no idea of the things I want to do to you. But I'm not allowed."

"What?"

"I'd lose everything." He brushed his lips over Bucky's, along the side of his jaw, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose. "My license, my job. I'd be struck off."

"Why?"

"It goes against about a dozen major directives. A bodyguard cannot become involved with their principal."

"I don't care!" Bucky exclaimed. "I give you permission. I mean, I want you to."

"It doesn't work that way." Steve tightened his arms around Bucky, holding him close and rubbed their cheeks together. "It doesn't matter how much either of us want this."

He could feel Bucky trembling in his arms and was afraid that, at any moment, he would bolt and Steve wouldn't see him again like this. 

"Can I fire you?" Bucky asked. The tremor reached his voice and Steve hated himself for putting that kind of uncertainty into it. "Then if you're not working for me...?

"You can't fire me. Only Nick can do that. And maybe your parents, but I'm not even certain about that."

Bucky drew a deep, shuddering breath and sighed, just as shakily.

"It's about par for the course, I suppose," he said, and the defeated way his shoulders slumped just about killed Steve. "On the rare occasion I really want something - I mean, _really_ want it, as opposed to it just being a passing fancy or a whim or a spoilt little kid's demands - it always slips through my grasp." He let gentle fingers trail over Steve's cheek for a second, then stepped back. Steve immediately felt cold. "I'm sorry if I put you in an awkward position," Bucky said, his eyes never leaving Steve's. "I should know by now that some things are too good for me." 

"Don't say that, Buck." Steve caught hold of the hand and pressed it to his cheek. "Nothing is too good for you. You just can't see that."

"I can't see a lot of things, it seems." Bucky turned and pressed his forehead against the window. He wrapped his arms around himself. 

"Bucky..."

"It's okay, Steve. I can't let you risk everything, just for - just like that. I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"Buck, don't give me that formal tone." Steve caught Bucky's shoulder to spin him around. "It's not just you missing out here. I want you. But I'm not allowed to have you." He cupped Bucky's face in his hands and leaned forward to kiss him gently. 

"You really do want me?" The disbelief in Bucky's eyes nearly killed Steve.

"Yes, you dumb ass." He couldn't resist kissing him again, but then forced himself to step back. "Maybe next time you're in town, I'll make sure Fury allocates someone else to keep your sorry ass out of trouble, okay?"

Bucky smiled. It was a wan smile, but at least it went some way to lifting the look of hopelessness from his expression.

"Okay." His eyes flicked towards the window. "Maybe I should get some shut-eye. I never sleep on that damned plane."

"Where are you going?" Steve asked. He stepped reluctantly away.

"Italy," Bucky shrugged. "My parents want me to be there for their anniversary party so we're all expected to meet up at the house in Cavallina, north of Florence." He huffed a short laugh. "At least I can't get into too much trouble there."

Steve went back to his room and packed the last of his belongings away. He travelled light, so it didn't take him as much time as he'd hoped. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he stared at his hands, feeling the echo of Bucky's kisses as a tingle in his lips.

God damn it.

When Bucky left, that would be it. There was a very real chance he would never see him again, no matter what Nick had said about Steve being Bucky's full time minder every time he came to the US. And if Steve did see him again, how easy would it be to spend time with him? When Steve wanted him so damn much, it was a physical pain to have to sit there on the other side of the wall, when all Steve really wanted to do was shove Bucky back onto the nearest bed and kiss him until that sad, hopeless expression was wiped away, never to return.

"Stupid romantic fool, Rogers," Steve muttered aloud.

~

Bucky stripped down to his just his jeans and padded around the suite barefoot for a while. He couldn't settle, didn't want the glass of bourbon he poured himself, started to run a bath then stopped it, lay flat on the bed but then had to sit up. Nothing could pull his mind away from the man in the other room. He ended up stood by the huge window in the bedroom, forehead resting against the cool glass and his mind turning over every single thing Steve had said and done that week.

Steve really was too perfect. There was no way Bucky would ever deserve someone like that, no matter how much money he gave away or how many good deeds he did or how well he behaved himself. Tomorrow he would have to sit and eat breakfast opposite the man who made him want to give up everything - his title, his money, his jet-set lifestyle - and pretend that his heart wasn't breaking.

It was a good thing he was an excellent actor. 

The door to the suite opened and he turned to see Steve. It had only been half an hour since he'd last laid eyes on him but it still made something in Bucky's chest jump to look at him.

"Everything okay?" Bucky asked, stepping away from the window. 

"No. No everything isn't okay." Steve's hands were balled into fists and he was looking down.

"What? What's wrong?"

Before he could take more than two steps from the window, Steve was there, right up against him and Steve's big hands were in Bucky's hair, his hot mouth stealing the breath from Bucky's lungs and Bucky just melted.

Fuck if Steve didn't kiss with every single atom of himself, Bucky thought hazily. Steve kissed him like he was drowning and Bucky was his only source of air and there was no way Bucky could resist that.

When Steve broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against Bucky's.

"I couldn't stay away," he said, voice wrecked. "I sat staring at the door for twenty minutes, going over every reason why I shouldn't do this and none of them were good enough to stop me coming back in here."

"But you could lose everything," Bucky said, looking at Steve in shock. "I can't - I won't allow that. I can't be responsible for you losing everything."

"There's only one thing I'm worried about losing right now, and that's you." Steve began to walk them backwards towards the bed, sliding his hand around the back of Bucky's neck. "Please tell me you want this as much as I do."

"Fuck, yes." Bucky all but launched himself at Steve and they tumbled back onto the bed, rolling over and over, all knees and elbows until suddenly, Bucky was under Steve, pinned to the bed by his bulk and his warmth and they were kissing. Bucky felt enveloped, adored, like he was the focus of Steve's entire world and it was overwhelming. There was nothing but Steve and Steve's scent and Steve's body against his and Steve's mouth and tongue and heat and...

Bucky groaned, bringing up both hands to grasp Steve's perfect ass.

"But what about your boss?" Bucky asked, trying to not be selfish for once. He gave a half-hearted shove, but Steve's shoulder didn't budge an inch. 

"I'll deal with him if necessary," Steve muttered, lips moving to Bucky's neck. He bit, then licked at the stinging patch, and Bucky felt himself liquify even further. 

"Then fuck me," he said. Steve all but shuddered, pressing his forehead to Bucky's shoulder. 

"But-"

"I want you in me. Please, Steve."

"Buck... are you sure?" Those earnest blue eyes were fixed on him, and Bucky felt like the most important person in Steve's world. It was a heady feeling and about a million times better than any other he'd ever had.

"It's been so long, please." He gripped Steve's ass tighter to emphasise his point. "I need you."

"I don't have anything." Steve looked up, then around the room. "Do you?"

"Bedside drawer." He waved a hand but Steve was already moving, yanking open the drawer and pulling out a strip of condoms and a bottle of lube.

"You come prepared for everything?" Steve asked, sitting back on his heels.

"Condoms haven't been touched this trip," Bucky said. He stretched out and grinned up at Steve. "Have used a fair bit of the lube though. Usually jacking off whilst thinking about you."

Steve's blue eyes darkened and Bucky shivered. He wasn't used to being looked at with such focus and intent. 

"You just going to hold it, or will you get around to using that at some point?"

"You are a mouthy brat." Steve dropped everything on the bed and lunged at him, pinning him back down and stopping any further words with a searing kiss. 

Steve's thin cotton t-shirt was the only thing between them and Bucky could feel the heat of Steve's chest against his own. Too many clothes, he thought, distractedly, and tugged at the hem. With a rough groan, Steve reared up onto his knees and hauled his shirt off and threw it on the floor. Bucky didn't waste any time, though. The moment Steve was upright, he began to undo his jeans, tugging the buttons open with shaking fingers.

"Come on, come on," he urged. "Strip, now."

"Christ, you're a bossy bottom," Steve said, grinning. 

"You expected any different?"

"Not really. I thought about this so many times," Steve admitted, wriggling back off the bed until he could shed the last of his clothes. "So many times, god, Bucky."

Bucky was trying to kick his own jeans off, but he stopped and stared at Steve in awe. 

"You really want me like that?"

Steve shoved him back and tugged his jeans the rest of the way off. 

"I want you like that, and like this, and in every god damn way I can possibly have you. Christ, you have no idea, do you?" Climbing back onto the bed, Steve kissed Bucky again, blanketing him with a wall of solid muscle. Bucky wanted to lie there all night, and all the next day and never have to get out of bed again as long as he lived.

Then Steve rocked his hips and Bucky suddenly realised he was blindingly, achingly hard.

"Jesus, Steve, come on, fuck me, please." He clutched at Steve's ass and groaned when Steve began to kiss his way down over Bucky's chest. "You're killing me."

"Oh no, I have other plans for you."

The click of the lube cap came at the same moment Steve sucked the top couple of inches of Bucky's cock into his mouth and everything went a bit hazy after that.

There were Steve's cool, wet fingers slipping inside him, and the warm suction of Steve's mouth, then the sudden emptiness followed by the hot, tight, blissful stretch of Steve pushing into him... it was all too good, too much, and part of Bucky wanted to sob because he this was everything he wanted, and he never got what he wanted, never more than a taste before it was taken away and-

"Whatever you're thinking, don't," Steve murmured, hitching Bucky's leg higher around his waist. "Bucky, look at me."

Bucky struggled to focus on Steve's face and had to blink the tears away before he could see the concerned expression in those ridiculously blue eyes. Steve stopped, holding still for Bucky to adjust and he smiled.

"It's okay. Whatever it is that you're about to freak out over, there's no need, I promise."

"You feel too good," Bucky whispered. "So good."

"It'll feel even better in a minute." Steve began to rock into Bucky, slow, steady and implacable. Bucky grunted, lifting his legs higher and tilting his pelvis until Steve hit that perfect spot. Like magic, his head cleared as sparkles danced across his vision. This was what he needed. Just him and Steve and this base instinct to connect on a visceral level.

"Oh fuck, yes." He reached up and pulled Steve's head down to kiss him, demanding every scrap of Steve's attention. "More," he muttered into Steve's mouth. "Harder."

Steve laughed, snapping his hips forward with enough force to make Bucky keen.

"I knew you'd be a pushy bottom."

"Less gloating, more fucking," Bucky said. 

Steve took him quite literally. He lifted one of Bucky’s legs up onto his shoulder and set a punishing rhythm. At that angle, he went deeper, harder against Bucky’s prostate.

“Fuck, yes, more,” Bucky gasped, feeling his orgasm start to build. “Steve.”

“Not gonna last at this pace,” Steve warned, between thrusts. “You’re so tight, Buck. Tight and hot and, Christ, touch yourself, come on.”

Bucky fumbled, getting a hand between them so he could wrap his fingers around his achingly hard cock. Just touching himself set fireworks off up and down his spine and he gasped.

“You gonna come for me?” Steve asked, his gaze fixed on Bucky’s face. “Come on, please, I want to see it. Let me see it, Bucky.”

“Steve…” The pressure in his balls was almost too much as they gathered up, tight and hard, and Steve’s cock was hitting his prostate with every thrust, each last thick inch of him jabbing and rubbing and, fuck, that was it. Bucky came, eyes closed, mouth open, spilling over his hand and stomach and chest.

Even as he did, Steve groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic until with one final cry, he stilled and came hard too. Bucky could feel every twitch, every shudder that ran through Steve’s solid body and he let his leg drop to tug Steve closer so he could kiss him, mouths moving together in a breathless, uncoordinated contact.

Steve was the first to move. Bucky was just too fucked out to care about things like condoms and wet bellies. Steve, however, took care of him, wiping him down and tugging the blankets up over both of them. 

“Awesome,” murmured Bucky, turning into Steve’s arms as he settled on the bed next to him. “You’re fucking amazing.”

“And you’re hilariously post-coital.” A fond kiss was pressed to Bucky’s forehead. “Go to sleep.”

Warm, comfortable and exhausted, Bucky did.

~

"Breakfast?" a cheerful voice asked and Bucky sighed, burying his face into the warm, softly furred chest next to him. 

"Go'way," he muttered. "Sleep."

"Aggie does great coffee."

Huffing, Bucky opened his eyes with great reluctance, and the first thing he saw was Steve's laughing eyes.

"Good morning, princess," Steve said with a grin. "You really are cheerful first thing, aren't you?"

"Oh my god, you're in my bed. Is it Christmas?" Bucky blurted, and Steve laughed out loud.

"If you hadn't mentioned Aggie's hashbrowns and French toast three or four times yesterday, I would be tempted to stay here all day," Steve said. He reached out and skimmed a gentle hand over Bucky's head. Bed-hair, Bucky thought. "But we need to get there before ten thirty for breakfast."

"Time now?"

"Just before nine."

"Mmph." Bucky nuzzled Steve's chest. "You're very comfortable, you know. Even with that sticking into my hip."

"Oh?"

How he could look so innocent, when his morning wood was poking Bucky in the side, was anyone's guess. Bucky flung the covers back and took a long, leisurely look at Steve.

"You really did fall out of an Abercrombie and Fitch store, didn't you?" he asked. "Christ, look at this." He wrapped his hand around Steve's erection, grinning as Steve groaned. "Perfectly in proportion as well."

"Bucky, we don't have time."

"There is always time for morning blowjobs," Bucky informed him, and slid down the bed just far enough so he could take Steve into his mouth.

"Fuck," Steve said, and hearing the profanity made Bucky chuckle. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, you know," Steve told him. The slight strain in his voice was the only clue that Bucky was attempting to suck his brains out through his dick. 

God, Bucky loved this. He reached down and wrapped one hand around himself, keeping the other around the base of Steve's erection. There was a feeling of power, heady and overwhelming sometimes, as the person he was blowing writhed and begged and finally came, all at his behest. Steve was ridiculously responsive. The sounds he made were pornographic, breathy gasps and moans as Bucky worked him quickly. This wasn't going to take long, he thought, feeling Steve heavy on his tongue. He sucked hard, diving down as far as he could go around Steve's thick length and then drawing gradually off until he could get his tongue around it, sliding it around the edge of the head and flicking over the frenulum. 

Steve bucked up into his mouth a couple of times, with a muffled apology each time but Bucky didn't care. One day he'd like Steve to pin him down and fuck his face, back him into a wall so there was nowhere to go, no escape and just thrust hard into his mouth, taking and taking until Bucky's jaw ached and his throat was raw and he came untouched as Steve's command.

With a choked groan, Bucky came hard, spurting all over his hand and the bed and Steve's leg. There was a startled gasp from above him, then the cock in his mouth thickened, jerked and came too. Bucky coughed but swallowed everything, sucking Steve through it until Steve had to bat him away.

"Christ, your mouth, Bucky," Steve gasped, tugging Bucky up the bed until he could kiss him. "Jesus."

"Better?" Bucky asked him. He pulled away enough to wipe the back of his hand over his mouth, but Steve wasn't having any of that and hauled him back in close to kiss properly. 

"You're a menace. And yes, much better," Steve muttered.

Laughing, Bucky clambered over him to lie full length on top of all that muscle.

"And we still have time for breakfast."

~

Aggie was delighted to see them and tucked them away in a quiet corner, promising them coffee just as soon as she could grab a passing waitress for them.

"They're so busy," Bucky said, looking around. "And it's past ten o'clock."

"Breakfasts are what Aggie is famous for," Steve told him. "Seriously, her hash browns are _that_ good."

"Hey, man," a cheerful voice said, and Steve looked up with a grin.

"Sam!" Steve stood up and pulled Sam into a hug, even as Sam grabbed him in return. It was more than just a quick hug though. Sam held on a little too tight and Steve pressed his cheek to Sam's in the closest thing to a kiss he'd do in public. "God, have I missed your ugly mug."

"Man, right back at you." Sam let him go reluctantly and Steve completely understood that feeling. Sam had a special place in Steve's heart and always would do. He'd filled so many roles over the years - brother, playmate, lover, best friend, shoulder to cry on, pain in the ass - there was no one who'd ever be able to take his place. "Where the hell have you been hiding lately, bro? Ma says she's seen you twice this week and not at all the month before."

"Let's not even talk about my last job, okay? Where's Nat?"

"Doing something complicated on Capitol Hill. Seriously, do not ask. Do not. Because you don't want to know, and she'd probably have to kill you if she told you. Who's the breakfast date?"

"Oh, sorry, yeah, Sam, this is Bucky Barnes. Bucky, Sam Wilson."

Steve watched as Bucky stood and for the briefest of moments, his heart was in his throat. These two men, he realised, were the most important men in Steve's life and if they didn't get on...

Sam stuck his hand out and Bucky immediately took it.

"I've heard all about you," Bucky said, and Steve recognised his super polite public face. "It's a pleasure to put a face to a name."

"Well, thanks. How do you know Steve?"

"He's been babysitting me for the past week." Bucky grinned. "I made him bring me out for breakfast before we head to the airport, because your mom does the best coffee I've ever had."

"Have you tried the apple pie?" Sam gave him a suspicious look and Bucky smirked.

"No, but I'm seriously considering kidnapping her for the brownies. How is it she's your mom and you aren't the size of a house?"

Sam suddenly laughed, and all the tension went out of Steve. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath. 

"Because I've spent most of my life chasing around after this dude, keeping his sorry ass out of trouble."

"I can believe that," Bucky nodded. A waitress appeared with two mugs of coffee. "Oh goodness, is that for me? Thank you."

He really was turning up the charm, Steve thought, but the young girl was captivated. Sam caught Steve's eye and grinned.

"I'll let you two fellas get back to your breakfast. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And you," he added, pointing at Steve. "Had better ring me the moment you get five minutes. I'm talking beers and wings, man."

"You got it." Steve punched him on the arm. "But no poker."

"So that's the mysterious Sam," Bucky mused as they both sat down. 

"Yep." Steve turned to the waitress. "Two full special breakfasts please, Alice. Eggs over easy, white toast, and a couple of short stacks. Thanks."

"You didn't even let me look at a menu!" Bucky protested. Steve rolled his eyes.

"You haven't shut up about food all morning, so I basically ordered you the biggest plate of breakfast on the menu, plus extra pancakes."

"Well, I'm starving," Bucky pouted. "Especially after that little appetiser I had first thing."

A flare of heat went through Steve at the memory and he flushed, feeling the warmth rising up his neck and over his cheeks. Bucky licked his lips and Steve was ambushed with how it had felt to have those lips around his cock. His jeans suddenly began to feel a little restrictive. 

"Oh my god," Bucky said, staring at Steve. "You're blushing. Holy fuck, I made you blush. This is the best morning, the absolute best."

"You are a god damn menace," Steve muttered. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

"I bet you're hard too, aren't you?" Bucky leaned forward so Steve could just about hear his sotto voce. "Just thinking about me blowing you this morning has got you hard in your jeans, hasn't it? Are they tight?" he asked, eyes dilating as Steve watched. "They are, aren't they? Trapping that fat cock against the side of your leg and there's nothing you can do about it. I can't even reach over and help you out because you're all the way over there and not beside me."

"Bucky, stop it." It came out a little breathier than he'd intended and therefore, nowhere near as authoritative as he'd hoped. 

"Just put your hand down and press against it," Bucky said. "Just one touch, go on."

"No." Resolutely, Steve wrapped both hands around his mug of coffee. "Any other restaurant, Buck. Just not this one."

"You're no fun," Bucky pouted and sat back in his seat. Steve could still see the amusement in his face though and sighed. "Can I blow you in the car park when we're done?"

Steve choked on a mouthful of coffee and Bucky laughed. It was a sound Steve could get well used to hearing. 

"You okay, Steve?" the waitress asked, putting two plates of pancakes down on the table.

"Yes thanks, Alice." Steve cleared his throat. "Just learning not to laugh and drink coffee at the same time." He glared at Bucky who grinned back, clearly unrepentant.

Steve hadn't realised just how hungry he was until he dug into the short stack.

"Oh god, why is everything here so good?" Bucky said, cramming pancakes into his mouth. "To hell with manners, how many of these could I eat before I go pop?"

"Save yourself for the rest of it." Steve pointed at Alice who was headed their way with two big plates. "I may have to roll you out of here."

Bacon, sausage, hash browns, eggs and toast completed their meal, and Alice kept their coffee mugs topped up.

"I am so full," Bucky sat back with a contented sigh. "I may not need to eat again this week."

"You'll be starving, come dinner time."

"Yeah." Then his face fell. It was like watching the shutters fall and all expression and emotion just vanished. "Shit. Dinner is in Italy tonight."

"Oh." Steve felt himself come back down to earth with a bump. Bucky was leaving today. Not just today, but in - Steve looked at his watch - a little over two hours. "You don't have to go."

"You could always come with me."

Steve bit his lip. He didn't want to leave Bucky on his own, and if Bucky couldn't stay...

"I could ring Nick," he heard himself say. "See if could get my contract with you extended."

"You'd come to Italy?" Bucky's eyes went wide and Steve didn't want to think about what that much hope in someone's expression meant.

"If I can." Steve fished his phone out of his pocket. Nick's number rang out though, going to his messaging service. "Damn it," Steve muttered. "Give him five minutes, he'll call me back."

But Nick didn't. They finished their coffee and Steve paid the bill on the way out. For some reason, he wouldn't let Bucky pay at Aggie's. He tried to pretend it wasn't because he viewed it as a kind of date.

They stepped out into the bright sunshine and Bucky's phone began to play 'Night on Bald Mountain'.

"Who is that?" Steve asked, but Bucky had already answered it. He spoke in monosyllables, voice flat and distant. The only sign of life was in the last minute of the call.

"But what if I don't want to?" Bucky snapped. He listened for a minute, then broke into a language that Steve didn't understand. He tried not to think how attractive it sounded, coming out of Bucky's mouth but failed miserably. "Fine," Bucky said, and hit the 'end call' button with a vicious stab.

"You okay?" Steve asked. He reached out to put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, but pulled away when Bucky flinched. "Buck?"

"That was my father," Bucky said dully. He stared at the phone for a long minute before stuffing it back in his pocket. "I have to be on the plane for wheels up in an hour."

"We need more time!" Steve exclaimed. "Nick hasn't called back. And anyway, you aren't supposed to leave until one, which gives us two hours."

"Nope. We have to get to the airport now. My father has instructed absolutely everybody in what's happening. He only deigned to tell me last, once everything else was in place."

"He can't do that." Steve felt like he was trying to hold a handful of sand, but it was leaking out between his fingers, blowing away in the wind and the harder he clutched at it, the quicker it ran away. "Bucky, tell him no."

"You don't say no to my father." He stood by the passenger door of Steve's truck. "Come on, it'll take us forty minutes to the airport from here."

Steve unlocked the doors and they got in. Bucky was staring at his hands, rubbing a thumb over each nail in turn. 

"Hey come on." Steve started the engine, then leaned across to cover both of Bucky's hands with one of his. They were shaking. "It's okay, we'll figure something out."

The smile Bucky gave him was wan, but at least it was a smile.

"That's one of the amazing things about you," he said. "You're always so positive."

"Hey, I learned the hard way that pessimism never works out for anyone."

"You're never disappointed if you don't expect anything."

"But if you don't expect anything, you have nothing to aim for." Steve reluctantly took his hand back and put the big truck in gear. "Come on, we have forty minutes to think of something."

Bucky sighed and more than anything, Steve wanted to pin him to the nearest flat surface and implore him to fight back. But he was withdrawing even as Steve watched, going back into that melancholy shell he'd arrived in.

"How much would it take to bribe the pilot into saying there's a mechanical fault?" Steve asked suddenly, and Bucky snorted.

"Inventive," Bucky said. "But my father pays the pilot so that's not going to happen. Oddly enough, his staff are quite loyal."

"If he's anything like you, I'm not surprised."

The look Bucky shot him was a mix of disbelief and resignation.

"I'm not like my father." He sighed. "Apparently I'm like his brother, which doesn't help matters."

"We could always take a detour and say we got stuck in traffic."

"Private plane, he won't take off until I'm there." 

"I could kidnap you." 

That actually got a proper laugh and Steve grinned at him.

"Kidnapped by my bodyguard, oh my god the papers would have an absolute field day." But he was still smiling, so Steve decided that counted for something. 

There seemed to be no traffic that morning, because they got to the airport in record time.

“What about all your stuff at the hotel?” Steve asked. 

“That will be here already.” Bucky looked out of the window at the planes taxiing up and down the tarmac. “Some officious staff member will have packed everything by now.”

“That’s just creepy.”

“Your things will be waiting at the front desk for you, probably.” He got out of the truck, reluctance visible in every move. “Come on, we’d better find which gate the plane is at.”

Steve followed behind, watching as the carefree Bucky of the last couple of days was wiped away by the world-weary Lord Barnes. In short order, they were standing in front of the gate. Bucky stepped in close and took Steve’s hands.

"I wish this had worked out differently." He leaned forward and kissed Steve softly. "Maybe I'll see you next time I'm in town?"

"Hang on." Steve shook his head to clear it. "Is that it? You're just going?"

"I have to. I need to be in Italy by this evening. My father will kill me if I'm late for dinner."

"Bucky, wait." Steve grabbed his arm. "I can't let you just leave." He tried to find the words which would make him stay, but just at the moment where he needed his eloquence the most, it deserted him. "Please."

"You're so amazing," Bucky said, cupping Steve's jaw with his hand and running his thumb over Steve's bottom lip. It tingled, and Steve wanted to nip at the pad of his thumb and suck it into his mouth just so he could watch Bucky's eyes dilate in public. "If I had a choice, I'd never leave."

He couldn't leave, Steve thought, suddenly frantic. He couldn't, just, no. Steve couldn't let him, for god's sakes. He couldn't allow Bucky to go back to his family, to let them ignore him and belittle him and treat him as little more than a trophy to be brought out when convenient and hidden away when they didn't want him around the rest of the time. Bucky deserved so much more than that, so much more, and Steve wanted to give him all of it. 

"Can't you just walk away?" Steve demanded. "Stand on your own two feet and tell your father to get lost?"

"How? He controls every penny I have. I don't own anything, Steve, not a house or a car. I can't just walk away or I'd be left with nothing."

"What do you call nothing? You're telling me you don't have a savings account somewhere? That you've not saved some of this ridiculous allowance you get each month? Christ, Bucky, you get more to live on in a month than some people do in a god damn year." Steve ran his hand through his hair. "I don't want to lose you, Buck, but if you can't make a stand for something you want, then there's no point fighting any more, is there?"

"What?" All the colour drained from Bucky's face and Steve wanted to reach for him, to wrap him up in both arms and hold him close but he couldn't. He was strong, yes, but he couldn't be responsible for them both. Bucky had to take some of the weight because Steve couldn't support them both. He'd only been standing on his own two feet for a year or so. 

"There's no point. I need you to fight, too. Don't just blindly accept that he is going to dictate everything you do for the rest of your life. Take a stand and tell him no. What do you have to lose? Apart from your jet set lifestyle, which you profess to hate so much."

Bucky shook his head and turned away. Something in Steve's stomach dropped. 

"Maybe I hate it, but it's all I have." He didn't look at Steve. "It's the only thing I know how to do, Steve. We're not all noble and virtuous like you. Some of us don't have a choice in what we do or how we live."

"Everyone has a choice, Bucky. That's why I joined the Army. To make sure people have a choice, that they aren't ruled by dictators and cruel overlords, that everyone has a chance to live their lives however they want to. You have that choice."

Bucky stood at the entrance to the private section of the airport and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Steve," he said softly. "I'm not as brave as you are. I don't think anyone is."

Before Steve could stop him, he'd stepped through the double doors and vanished from sight.

~

It was just over a week before Bucky managed to get back to LA. The intervening days had been spent on a rollercoaster of emotions. First, he'd been heartbroken and miserable, all through the flight and dinner and the following day. Then he'd been angry, and yelled at his father and his mother and anyone else who came within shouting distance for two days solid. During the angry phase, he may or may not have transferred various sums of money to an account in England that was completely separate from all of his other, family-monitored accounts. 

After the anger had come the calm, rational period, during which he'd explained how he felt (although not apologised) and informed them that if they wanted an heir and not a situation vacant, they needed to understand that he was going back to the US to track down the man who'd stolen his heart and they had better not try to stop him. 

At which point his mother - his quiet, reserved, somewhat distant mother - had laughed out loud. 

"What's so funny?" Bucky asked, frowning. "You think a broken heart is funny? Do you not have one?"

"I'm laughing because it seems that you and your father really aren't all that different after all."

"What?" Bucky turned to look at his father, and to his astonishment, Lord Barnes the Elder was actually smiling.

"What you have just said to us is virtually what I told my father some thirty odd years ago." 

Bucky had never, in all his years, seen that smile on his father's face. It was almost fond, and there was a hint of what appeared to be genuine warmth in the silver blue eyes.

"You threw a fit at your father because of a broken heart?"

"I told him if he didn't let me marry your mother, I would disown the entire family, run away to northern Italy and never come back."

Bucky snorted.

"Seriously?"

"Go ask him. But if your wish is to truly be with this man, then I hope it will mean an end to your somewhat excessive lifestyle."

"He kept me out of trouble when I was there last week," Bucky shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he can continue to do so. Assuming his boss lets him leave."

Lord Barnes nodded slowly.

"Go pack. I will speak with him."

And with that, Bucky had been dismissed.

The feeling of surrealism had lasted pretty much until he'd touched down in LA. No one had stopped him from packing or taking a car to the airport. The plane had been waiting, like his father had said it would be, and even when he was over the Atlantic, Bucky still hadn't been able to believe he'd escaped.

Had that really been all it had taken? A moment of actually standing up to his father to his face, rather than years of passive-aggressive misbehaving behind his back? He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when he landed a little after two in the afternoon, there was even a car waiting for him. 

He got the driver to take him to somewhere he could hire a vehicle a little more suitable to his current situation. Then, he thought, he needed to find Steve.

It didn't take as much doing as he'd feared. He found the big black truck parked outside Aggie's. For some reason, it made something in his chest ease, knowing that Steve had sought out the one place closest to home for him. Bucky dumped the motorbike near the front door, hung his helmet off the handlebars and pushed the front door open.

It was cool in the diner; and that was pretty much the reception he got from Aggie. She was stood by the little lectern that held all her menus, glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"Mrs Wilson," he said. "Where's Steve?"

"I ain't never seen that boy's heart broke like it is," she said without preamble. "I hope you got a real good apology lined up, son."

"I need to see him." Bucky had to bite his lip and blink back tears. "Please."

She looked at him, head on one side. And Bucky let her. He didn't hide, didn't pull one of his many masks out and instead, just stood there, letting all of the hurt and love and pain he was feeling show. Her face softened.

"Oh, sweet child, you're as bad as he is, aren't you?"

"I need..." his voice cracked, and she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. He bowed his head and hugged her fiercely in return.

"Hush," Aggie said. "Steve is sat in the booth where you had dinner that first night." Stepping back, she pointed down the aisle. "Go sort things out and do not leave until you've said everything you need to say."

"Yes ma'am."

The restaurant was quiet, for which Bucky was extremely thankful. He didn't know if he would have had the courage to do this if there had been tables full of people watching him. As it was, he got a few curious looks as he headed down to the last booth in the row. 

Steve didn't see him coming. He was staring out of the window, half a cup of coffee in front of him and Bucky _hated_ the defeated slump of his shoulders. You put that there, he thought, and hated himself all the more for it.

"Steve?"

Steve's head jerked up. His eyes went wide and for a moment, he looked vulnerable and hopeful and lost all at once.

Then he blinked and the professional façade dropped into place.

"Good afternoon, Lord Barnes," he said, and there wasn't a trace of sarcasm or irony in his voice. "I'm sorry, I wasn't informed of your arrival."

"Steve, don't, please." Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around. "Can I - do you mind... can I sit?"

"Of course, sir." Steve straightened up. "How can I help you?"

"Stop it, please." Bucky slid into the seat opposite and slumped under the weight of Steve's bland gaze. "I need to talk to you."

“I’m right here.”

Bucky’s hands were shaking. He clasped them together on the table in front of him and stared at the polished wooden surface. Before he could think of what to say, a waitress appeared.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” she asked. 

“Just a coffee, thank you.” He dug around for a smile and glanced up. “Oh, hi, Alice.” It was the waitress who’d served them breakfast, just over a week ago and it felt surreal to be sat there.

“Well, hello again.” She smiled back. “Nothing to eat?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know, thanks.”

She went off, presumably to get his coffee and Bucky turned back to Steve who was now regarding him curiously.

“What? Is it okay if I have a coffee whilst we talk?” Bucky asked.

“You remembered her name.”

“Right now, I don’t know if you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing, because I honestly haven’t got the faintest idea what’s going through your head at the moment.” He decided painful honesty would get him the fastest answers. “Yes, I remember her name, because it was only a week ago that I made the biggest mistake of my life, and she served me the last meal I can actually remember eating.”

“Mistake?”

Steve could probably play professional poker with a face like that, Bucky thought.

“Yeah, mistake. Walking away from you was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life and believe me, I’ve done a few.”

“So I understand.”

Alice came back with his coffee and he thanked her. Steve was still watching him, expression blank.

This wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. He took his time adding milk and sugar to his coffee, stirring slowly and wondering what the hell to say next. There really only was one way of doing this though.

“I know you are a big fan of honesty,” Bucky said, placing his spoon down on the table. He had to blink a few times to clear his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry, that was for sure. “So I’m just going to spill my guts everywhere, so you know how I feel, then, if at the end of it all, you decide you want to actually say something, go right ahead.” 

Steve nodded, sitting back in his seat with his coffee mug cradled in both hands. Bucky guessed that was as good as an ‘I’m listening’.

“Short version, I’m an ass and I love you and I’m sorry.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching Steve’s face carefully. Not a flicker. “Long version, I’m the biggest ass on the face of the planet, and I very nearly got myself disowned yesterday. Which, to be honest, I’m not sure I would have cared about one way or another. But then my mother stepped in, before it could devolve into a blistering argument, like usual, and reminded my father that he had said practically the same thing to _his_ father about my mother.”

“And what was it that you said?” Steve asked.

Bucky recounted the whole conversation with his father, and his mother’s observations about the apple not falling that far from the tree after all. 

“And so after years of having to do as you were told, you finally stood up to your father and discovered that maybe he isn’t the dreadful tyrant that you always thought he was?” Steve asked, leaning forward. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“He’s maybe a little more human than I realised,” he admitted.

Steve shook his head, the faintest glimmer of a smile tugging at the corner of those lips that Bucky desperately wanted to lean over the table and capture with his own.

“Right. So, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry?” Bucky blinked, his stomach dropping. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?”

“You’ve taken the first step away from the strangle hold your family has had on you for years. Why are you here instead of going whatever you want?”

“But this _is_ what I want!” Bucky exclaimed. “You’re what I want.”

“I thought I was too noble and virtuous for you.” Steve’s face had shut back down again. “And that you’d decided that I wasn’t worth fighting for.”

“No, no, god, no, Steve, don’t think that!” Bucky leaned across and caught hold of one of Steve’s hands in both of his. “You’re worth more than I could ever even begin to deserve.”

“Are you sure about that?” There was a crack, just a tiny one, in Steve’s voice and Bucky felt a hitch in his own breathing. 

“Yes!” 

“Wrong answer.” Steve twisted his hands in Bucky’s grasp until their fingers were intertwined. “Didn’t I tell you that you deserve more than you realise?” The blank façade cracked and fell away to leave Steve smiling. It was a small smile, tentative and hopeful, but it was a smile and Bucky felt a sudden rush of relief. His eyes prickled with moisture and he bit his bottom lip to stop it trembling. There was hope, he thought.

“Can we maybe, I don’t know - go for a walk?” he asked.

“Sure.” Steve’s smile strengthened. “Come on.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how they actually got out of the diner. He didn’t remember paying for his coffee or Steve taking him by the hand to lead him outside, but he did recall, quite clearly, Aggie pressing a fond kiss to his cheek.

“How did you get here?” Steve asked. Bucky pointed at the bike parked next to Steve’s black truck. “Nice.” He led Bucky across the car park, their fingers still entwined. Bucky’s heart was beating jackrabbit-fast. He had no idea what was going to happen next. 

He needn’t have worried. The moment the big truck was between them and the diner, Steve pushed him up against the door and kissed him.

Bucky melted. Steve’s mouth was hot and insistent, the kiss everything he remembered and all he had hoped. His hands came up to hold Steve’s face as Steve’s hands sat heavy on Bucky’s hips.

“Did you mean it?” Steve said, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. He was breathing heavily, and Bucky felt like all the blood in his body had gone south.

“Which bit? Because I meant all of it but which bit do you mean?”

“You said ‘I love you’. Did you mean it?” Steve’s voice was strained

“Christ, yes, Steve, of course I meant it!” Bucky tugged him back down to kiss again, and felt more than heard Steve’s groan.

“I want you, Christ, I want you so much,” Steve muttered. “This past week has been hell, absolute hell, Buck.”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry, really, god so sorry you cannot begin to imagine.” He rocked his hips against Steve’s and shuddered when Steve slipped a thigh between Bucky’s own. Christ, he was so hard already. “I’m such a fucking idiot, you have to understand that.”

“It’s okay,” Steve began, but Bucky shook his head fast.

“No, no, it’s not. I’m a spoiled brat who needs reminding he’s not the centre of the universe and there are other people out there more important than I am.”

“And at the same time, you can be the centre of my universe. And I think you’re important.”

“God, how are you so perfect.” Bucky kissed him again, sliding one arm around Steve’s waist to tug him close.

Someone cleared their throat from a couple of yards away.

“Get lost, Sam,” Steve muttered. He buried his face into Bucky’s neck and Bucky could feel him muffle a laugh.

“Not to interrupt anything, guys, but – I have to interrupt. Ma is worried you might be scaring off the customers. Or about to get your dumb asses arrested for indecent exposure or something.”

Bucky looked left and saw Sam standing there, arms folded and grinning from ear to ear.

“And whilst I’m absolutely thrilled that you got your pretty heads out of your aforementioned dumb asses, I’d rather you didn’t do it in public, in our car park.”

Steve lifted his head and stepped away from Bucky, just far enough for Sam to get an eyeful if he looked. Sam, quite masterfully, didn’t look.

“Maybe we’ll take this elsewhere,” Steve said, poker face back in place.

“Much appreciated, buddy. And you,” Sam pointed a finger at Bucky. “Do not pull that stunt again. I cannot be doing with looking at that lug’s stupid kicked puppy expression one more time. Okay?”

“Says the one who moped for _months_ over Natasha.”

“Shut up and move on, bud.”

Steve grinned and fished his car keys out of his pocket. Bucky noticed that Sam kept his eyes firmly on Steve’s face. At least he didn’t have to worry about that old flame resurrecting, he thought.

“Do you want to follow me home?” Steve asked Bucky, who nodded.

“Yeah, good idea.” 

“Be safe,” Sam told them. “Speed limits, stop signs, that kind of thing, yeah?”

“Scram,” Steve said, and Sam laughed, sketching them a salute and heading back towards the diner.

“Lube too!” he shouted over his shoulder, and Steve gave him the bird.

“Did you really just do that?” Bucky asked, shocked. Steve shrugged.

“I’m not an angel, Buck.”

Before Bucky could answer, Steve’s phone rang. Bucky watched Steve’s face shift.

“Who-?” he began, but Steve pressed the button.

“Hey Nick,” he said. “What’s up?”

~

Steve drove sedately towards the office, acutely aware of the motorcycle in his rear view mirror. More than anything he wanted to take the next exit of the interstate, lead Bucky back to his house and spread him out across the huge bed that Steve had bought when he’d left the army. Fitting shoulders as wide as his onto Army-issue cots hadn’t been fun.

Instead, he pulled up outside the bland, two storey building which housed the agency and got out, wondering what the hell Nick had planned now. His boss had to know Bucky was back in the country.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, tugging off his helmet as Steve rounded the back of the truck. He was sat astride the big bike, trousers tight over firm thighs and Steve’s dick twitched.

No, he did not want to go face Fury with a hard-on, he thought.

“No idea. I shouldn’t be long though.” He looked around. “Wait here?”

“Sure.” Bucky reached out before Steve could move away and, grabbing a handful of Steve’s shirt, pulled him down for a kiss. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Nick was standing by the window, looking down at the street below. Steve didn’t need to cross the room and look to know that Nick could see the truck, the bike, and Bucky.

“You have something for me?” Steve asked, automatically coming to parade rest in front of the broad desk.

“Yeah, happen I do.” Nick ran a hand over his shaved head and sighed. “Got a phone call this morning. Lord Barnes senior.”

“The Elder.” Steve sighed. “Does he want you to put Bucky back on a plane home?”

“Nope.” There was something Nick was hiding, Steve thought, but that was normal. “Seems Junior developed a set of teeth somewhere along the way. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Nope,” Steve echoed, and Nick grinned, scary and wide.

“Good. I have to let you know that I am relieving you of all further duties.”

“What?” Steve blinked and stood up straight. “You’re firing me?”

“I’m not that stupid,” Nick said. “The only job you have from now on is watching James Barnes’ ass.”

Steve’s breath caught.

“His father ordered that?”

"His father is paying me a good retainer," Nick shrugged. "I don't care where you two go or what you do." There was the ghost of a smile playing over Nick's face and Steve realised that he was probably being totally transparent. "As long as you accompany his lordship everywhere he wants to go and keep him out of mischief, you can do what the hell you want."

Steve felt it, honest to god felt it as the world opened up in front of him. He could literally go anywhere.

"You've earned this," Nick said, a rare flash of compassion softened his usually forbidding features. "You pulled yourself up out of a black hole of a mess and now, this is your reward."

"You're the one who pulled me out," Steve went to protest, but Nick scowled at him.

"Don't be a dumb ass," he grumbled. "No amount of pulling is going to drag someone out of a pit like yours. You gotta want to get out, and be willing to do the hard work to do so. I just gave you the chance." He cleared his throat and looked down at the mess of paper on his desk. "I do not want to see your stupid mug in any gutter press, okay?"

"Yes sir," Steve smiled. He rose and was a little surprised when Nick stood too, coming around the desk with his hand outstretched. "I'll do my best."

"Keep your boy out of trouble," Nick said and took Steve's hand to pull him into a rough hug. "Now get out of my sight."

The day was still the same when Steve stepped out onto the sidewalk, but everything felt brighter and when he spotted Bucky leaning on the front of the big black truck, something in Steve's chest flipped over.

"I take it by the fact you're still standing that your scary ass boss didn't threaten you with bodily harm?" Bucky asked, standing up straight as Steve approached.

"He won't let me quit," Steve said. Bucky's face fell and Steve had to step forward and pull him into a kiss. "No, no, don't look like that. He did something better."

"What?" Bucky had a tight grip on Steve's waist. 

"He's persuaded your father to pay him a retainer and pretty much turned me loose on the world. As long as I'm with you, I can go anywhere."

Bucky chewed that over for a moment.

"Doesn't that make you a kept man?"

Steve laughed and pushed Bucky back against the truck. Bucky's breath caught in a most satisfactory manner.

"I don't care. It means that wherever you go, I get to go too. Whatever you want to do, I'm going to be right there next to you doing it too."

"Does that include joining the mile high club with me?"

"You are such an ass," Steve laughed. And then he kissed him.


End file.
